Hide and Seek
by Tri Lorian
Summary: Lancelot goes missing after an attack in the woods. The beginning of a game of hide and seek... {Complete}
1. Part One

Darkness and silence were covering the forest. Only the sounds of hooves trampling down on branches and leaves mingled with the heavy breathing of horses could be heard. Arthur had ordered his knights to keep as silent as possible during the ride through the forest. The Roman commander would have preferred to go around the forest, especially with sunset already hours ago, but it would have added at least half a day to their travel back to Hadrian's Wall. The moon provided enough light to see where the horse in front of him, Lancelot's black stallion, was going. He had put Lancelot at point because the Sarmatian and his horse seemed to be able to intuitively find their way in the dark as though they shared some genetic heritage with cats.

The silence and the slow stepwise movements of the horse underneath him almost threatened to lull Gawain into a slumber like state. He shook his head to wake himself up again, knowing that the woods were never safe. He looked over his shoulder, and saw that Galahad was following closely, staring into the dark intently. For a second, their gazes locked and a small smile glided over the young knight's features. Gawain could see that Bors and Dagonet were following behind Galahad, forming the rear.

Suddenly he saw that Tristan who was riding in front of him straightened up, immediately moving his hand to his bow that was loosely tied to the saddle. At the same moment that the scout shouted out "Woads", he heard Lancelot's voice screaming "Back! Get back!"

Arthur turned his horse so abruptly that the animal reared on his hind legs. With a powerful jump it moved forwards when his hooves hit the ground again. "Knights! Back!"

Dagonet was now leading them and he asked as much speed of his large stallion as the animal dared to give through the dense trees. He could hear the shouts of his fellow knights behind him to hurry. Soon the sound of their voices was joined by the swooshing noise of arrows flying past. He could hear Arthur instructing everyone to stay low on their horses.

The horses had been running for only a few minutes when Arthur came aware that no more arrows were being fired upon them. He started to slow down his horse, shouting to Tristan to do the same. Dagonet and Bors were the first to turn their horses once they had reached step and face Arthur and the other knights. Galahad and Gawain turned around as well and watched as Arthur and Tristan approached. "Everyone alright?" Arthur asked.

Gawain watched over Arthur's shoulder, waiting for Lancelot to appear out of the darkness.

Arthur immediately sensed what Gawain was looking for and saw the worry passing over the blond knight's face. He turned around but didn't see anyone behind him. "Lancelot?" he called out. "Lancelot!" A flavor of panic was starting to appear in his voice.

Briefly, very briefly, relief flooded through him as Lancelot's stallion appeared in the moonlight. The horse was riderless. A stone sank to the pit of Arthur's stomach. The other knights watched in shock as Tristan grabbed the reins of the animal when it tried to go past him.

In the moonlight Tristan could easily see the red blood glistening on the horse's back and flank. He quickly dismounted to check the stallion for injuries. Arthur and the other knights watched as Tristan gently roamed his hands over the large animal.

Even before Tristan turned around to face him, Arthur knew that the blood on the stallion was Lancelot's.

"Lancelot has been hit." Even though Tristan's voice sounded even, his eyes shone with fear.

"We have to find him!" Arthur ordered while turning his horse around once more.

Tristan was already on horseback again and led the way, following the trail that Lancelot's stallion had left.

They found no trace of Lancelot until they had tracked back to the place where the attack of the Woads had begun. The sudden turning of the knight's horses had upturned most of the leaves covering the small path between the trees, and it took even Tristan a couple of minutes before he saw the blotches of blood covering the ground. The scout dismounted once more and crouched down. "The leaves are slightly flattened here," he pointed as Arthur joined him.

Arthur nodded. "He fell from his horse." He looked around him in the dark, his green eyes darkened by untamed fear. "Where is he?" He looked back to his scout for the answer.

Tristan shook his head. "There are no signs of a struggle, so either he managed to get away or he was captured without resistance." His words hung in the air. All of the knights knew that Lancelot would never let himself be captured without putting up a fight, unless he was incapable of putting up a fight, for whatever reason.

"There should be a blood trail if he managed to get away… Is there?" Arthur already knew the answer before he asked the question.

"It looks like they followed the same path we used to get here. If we go back, we should be able to find them." Tristan did not want to lose anymore time, so he ignored his commander's question. "We need to hurry. They know these woods better than we do, and there are many hours of darkness to come!"

–– 8 ––

Lancelot suddenly became aware of hands under his arms, dragging him over the dry ground. At the same time, he became aware of the pain that was setting his back on fire. He had to bite his lip to keep from screaming out loud. A metallic taste filled his mouth as blood ran down his split lip. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly while an excruciating agony seared through his veins.

He remembered how he had felt an arrow lodging itself in his back, and how he had tried to scream out to warn the others, but the impact of the arrow had rushed the air out of his lungs, leaving him breathless and speechless. He didn't remember anything after that. But obviously the Woads had captured him, because he knew that none of his fellow knights would ever drag him this brutally, aggravating the pain that was making his legs and arms tingle.

All of a sudden the hands under his arms let go and Lancelot felt himself falling back to the ground. Agony suddenly turned to a whole different level when the arrow in his back touched the ground, pushing it in even further. This time he couldn't keep back a pain-filled scream. His vision began to swim around the edges, darkness was beckoning. Lancelot was only too glad to give himself up to it.

He didn't know for how long he had been out when he suddenly jerked awake as a hand grabbed the arrow shaft sticking out at the side of his back. He was now face down in the dirt. His eyes opened wide when he felt a pull on the arrow. He realized that whoever had captured him was about to pull out the arrow. His scream echoed through the woods for a long time. Instead of blissed unconsciousness, Lancelot's awareness rose to new heights that he never even knew existed as he felt every fiber and muscle in his body protesting against the exit of the arrow. Pain spread with vigour through his body, engulfing him. Sweat soaked him as a downpour would have. Blood was roaring in his ears. When he thought he could take no more, blackness finally took him mercifully.


	2. Part Two

**A/N: Thank you for all the lovely reviews :)**

* * *

Tristan spurred his grey mare on for more speed as the rising sun cast a deep orange light through the trees. Their travel through the woods had been slow going with the moon only providing minimal light enabling the scout to track the traces that the Woads had left. After only an hour, the Woads seemed to have left the trail that the knights had followed earlier, and ridden deep into the dense forest. 

Deep concern and fear for their brother-in-arms had kept Arthur and his other knights up and alert for the entire night. Arthur had been thinking about the attack ever since they had gone after the Woads, and it had left him with a strange feeling, like something was amiss.

Arthur immediately noticed the change in posture of his scout when he sat up rigidly, staring ahead. Arthur's hand went to Excalibur, uncertain of what had alerted Tristan. No sound, no movement had caught his attention. When Tristan signaled to him to stop, he realized that the knight was focused on something on the ground.

Quickly Arthur signaled to the other knights behind him to stop as well, before he swiftly dismounted and joined Tristan who had picked up something. An arrow covered with blood from its tip to almost the end of the shaft.

Tristan wordlessly handed it to his commander. The other knights gathered around, staring at the arrow, not doubting whose blood was coating its length.

Gawain was the first to speak up. "Arthur…" He looked straight at the arrow in the Roman's hand. "Why did they leave us the arrow?"

Arthur nodded, knowing what the blond Sarmatian was getting at. "I know. Something strange is going on."

"The attack…" Tristan added. "They could have easily taken down more of us. It was too brief, like they got what they wanted…"

"Lancelot." Arthur's voice betrayed how afraid he was for his knight's life. He stood for a minute, before he straightened himself. "Knights! We can't lose any more time!" he ordered.

–– 8 ––

Lancelot's eyelids fluttered open, the sunlight attacking his eyes. Red spot danced before his eyes. He tried blinking them away, but he couldn't get rid off the fog clouding his vision. Slowly his awareness crept back, and he realized that he was lying over a horse, his head down. He felt lightheaded, nauseous. He shook his head, but it only increased the pounding in his head. Streaks of pain shot through his back with every movement of the horse he was slung over.

Slowly he started to become aware of his surroundings. He had no idea how long he had been out, or how long he had been lying on top of the horse. He couldn't see where they were going, only the ground that was moving past below his head.

He could heard voices around him. He distinguished at least three different voices, but he couldn't see anyone. He could make out some of the things that were being said.

"They are following," he heard someone close by saying.

Laughter followed. "Good!" a bass voice thundered.

Lancelot's eyes closed involuntarily for a moment, the pain in his back overwhelming. He realized he must have blacked out again, when the voices returned to his ears as the horse he was lying on came to a halt.

"Make sure he doesn't bleed out! We need him alive, other than that I don't care what happens to him." The same bass voice again, Lancelot knew. The leader, he thought.

A hand roughly grabbed him by his leg, and started to pull him down from the horse. His back was ablaze with fire. His stomach scraped over the horse, making him realize that he was stripped off his armour. With a hard jerk, he slid off the horse completely. When his feet touched the ground, he stumbled and fell backwards. Agony worse than his imagination seared through him, but only for a second. Oblivion overtook him as soon as his body hit the ground.

–– 8 ––

Arthur picked up on the smell of a camp fire at the same time as Tristan did. The scout turned around in the saddle and saw his commander already riding up to him.

"Scout ahead, see if they are still there," Arthur ordered. He slowed his own horse down, not wanting to alert the Woads who had captured Lancelot to their presence if they were still at the camp site.

Tristan returned only minutes later. He shook his head. "Deserted. The fire has cooled down almost completely. They must have left hours ago, but left the fire smoldering…"

"… for us to find…" Gawain finished, anger evident in his voice.

"Arthur," Tristan sounded hesitant, which was most unusual.

Arthur looked up sharply, dreading what the scout had to say.

"There's something you have to see." Tristan turned his mare around and led the other knights towards the clearing in the forest where the Woads had set up camp earlier that day.

Gawain and Galahad looked at each other while they followed the scout, a feeling of trepidation descending over the knights.

Arthur's gaze immediately went to what Tristan had been referring to, lying next to the fire, very conspicuously. He dismounted slowly, almost afraid to take a closer look.

The Roman knelt down next to Lancelot's armour, and picked it up carefully. He could feel his hands slipping on the blood that was coating the backside of the leather piece.

Gawain moved to stand next to him, studying the armour. The arrow hole was hard to miss. His breath caught in his throat. "He was shot in his back…"

"What's going on here?" Arthur almost shouted, sounding furious and frightened at the same time. "It doesn't make sense to keep him alive! When have we last known the Woads to take captives? It must have been years ago! And they leave us all these hints to make it easier on us to follow them. Something is seriously wrong…"

"We don't even know if he's still alive, do we?" Galahad sounded scared, scared for the life of his friend, his fellow knight.

Gawain shook his head slightly. "No, we don't, but I think we would have found his body by now if he were. As another present most likely…"

"I've spotted drops of blood all along the way. He's still alive." Tristan stated quietly. But for how long? A question that echoed through the minds of all the knights.

Bors cursed out loud. "Who the hell took our Lancelot?"

"Merlin?" Galahad answered uncertainly, looking at Arthur.

The Roman commander shook his head slowly. "It could be. Or not. I don't know what's going on here. I do know that it's been nearly a day since they took Lancelot and we have no idea where they are heading."

Arthur looked around the circle of knights. They all looked weary. He was certain he must look the same way. Not surprisingly as they had been riding for a day and a half without any sleep. "We'll stop here for some rest. We all need it." He held up his hand as protests reached him from all sides. "We have been at it for more than a day. Believe me, I want nothing more than to continue, but we won't be worth anything to Lancelot if we don't rest now!"

The protests died down soon as the Sarmatian knights realized their commander was right. Silently they dispersed and set out to gather wood for the fire, and food and water for a meal. Soon after they all laid down for sleep, except for Galahad who had first watch.

Gawain became aware that Arthur was asleep no more than he was himself when he noticed him tossing and turning in an attempt to find a comfortable position to sleep in.

"I don't think they intend to kill him," he whispered, trying to sound reassuring, but not really succeeding.

He heard Arthur sigh deeply. "It's killing me not knowing how he's doing, Gawain. Maybe they don't intend to kill him, but he's leaving a trail of blood, which means that his wounds have not been treated either." A brief pause. "I should have noticed something when he was shot! He was only closely behind me, for God's sake!"

Gawain pushed himself up on one elbow. He was able to see Arthur's face in the light of the dancing flames. "Arthur, you can't blame yourself for this! If there had been anything that you could have done different, you would have!" he tried to defuse his commander's feelings of guilt. Gawain sighed as well when he laid down on his back again, staring up to the clear sky. "I keep wishing that he's unconscious through it all, so he doesn't suffer too much," he confessed. "And you know how his mouth runs off with him..."

Arthur shuddered. He didn't want to consider the possibilities or the consequences.


	3. Part Three

Lancelot woke up with a start as his entire body screamed in pain when he was roughly pulled to his feet. He tried to find his bearings, but he had completely lost his sense of balance. A shock went through him as he realized he couldn't see anything. For a moment he thought it was dark again or that he had gone blind, but then he became aware of the blindfold bound over his face.

Another rough push sent him stumbling forwards. He bit his lip to refrain from screaming. He could feel blood flowing down his back. After just two steps, he felt his knees buckling and nearly crashed to the ground once more if it hadn't been for two hands that grabbed his arms from behind, holding him up.

Suddenly he was lifted from the ground without any effort. He could feel the warm body of a horse against his legs, before other hands wrapped themselves around his middle, pressing down on the arrow wound. Lancelot felt his head swimming. A pain-filled groan escaped him. He was lifted up further until he sat on top of the horse, in front of it's rider. Almost immediately the support at his back disappeared as he heard heavy feet hitting the ground.

He swayed in the saddle. The blindfold left him blind for left and right, up and down. The pain in his back left him lightheaded. He could only see dancing lights in front of his eyes. Desperately he grabbed hold of the manes, trying to remain on top of the horse, not wanting to go through the agony of falling to the ground.

All of a sudden, he felt how his feet were grabbed at both sides. Before he even could think of responding, he felt a rope being tied around his left boot really tightly. When he felt his foot being pulled forwards slightly by the rope, Lancelot realized they were about to tie his feet together with the rope running in front of his horse's breast, effectively cutting off all of his escape routes.

With a surge of determination, Lancelot kicked out with his right foot before his capturers could bind the rope to it. He felt how his boot impacted with something soft. Lots of cursing ensued. A sharp stab of pain flared through him as someone yanked on the rope attached to his left foot. He clenched his teeth together, going completely rigid as he fought not to pass out again.

"If you don't want that to happen again, then keep your feet to yourself!" The bass voice kept his voice low, but the threatening tone was unmistakable. Lancelot felt how with quick motions the rope was tied around his right foot as well.

Another jolt went through Lancelot's body as his horse started walking. He concentrated on staying on the horse, trying to adjust to the feeling of a swaying body beneath him. Slowly the near intolerable pain radiating from his back subsided, turning into a throbbing ache.

The longer they traveled, the more Lancelot would hear his capturers speak. He tried to listen to get an idea who they were, why he had been taken, but he picked up mainly pieces of conversations. He could hear how a horse approached galloping.

"They found our camp site!" A panting voice almost yelled.

Snickering all around. "I think it's time for another gift for our dear knights! To give them a taste of what I went through, and something to spur them on to keep following!" The man with the bass voice burst out in laughter and the other men followed suit.

Lancelot felt his temper rising as he realized that Arthur and his fellow knights were being set up. Anger burned inside of him at the thought that he was being used as a pawn to lure his friends into a trap. "You don't think that they'll fall for your damn games, do you?"

The laughter around him died down, and even with the blindfold, Lancelot knew that all eyes were trained on him in an instant. He became aware of a horse that came to walk next to him and the next moment he felt a knife pressed against his throat.

"If you know what is good for you, pretty boy, then you'll shut your mouth…" For emphasis the Woad leader pressed lightly on his knife. Lancelot could feel a small trickle of blood running down his neck.

The knife was lifted from his neck, but only briefly. Lancelot felt the cold metal returning against his skin just a bit more to the side of his neck.

"And what do we have here?" bass voice grinned.

Lancelot felt how something, the knife, pulled on the leather string on which his sister's pendant hung around his neck. Involuntarily he jerked back. He hissed out in pain as the agony in his back returned at full force at the sudden movement

"Ah… not just a charm, but a precious one…" bass voice gloated.

"You'll have to kill me first before you get your hands on that!" Lancelot growled. Focusing on the sound of the bass voice and the pressure of the knife on his neck, he carefully let go off the horse's manes and grabbed the arm holding the knife, giving it a painful twist.

He screamed out loud in pain as a fist came down hard on his injured back. Blessed darkness claimed him immediately.

–– 8 ––

The sun was standing at its highest point in the sky as Tristan rode next to Arthur, with the other knights following in line. The scout had no problems reading the tracks that had been left by Lancelot's capturers as obviously no attempts had been made to cover them up.

No talking or bantering could be heard as the Sarmatian knights rode in silence behind their Roman commander, all of their thoughts with their comrade. It had been more than a day and a half since Lancelot had been taken captive.

"We're hardly gaining any ground at all," Tristan said quietly to Arthur.

Arthur nodded knowingly. "I have a feeling that they know exactly where they are going. They are leading us on… I just don't know why!" Fear and foreboding had taken up residence in his heart.

"Arthur!" Galahad's voice as he shouted out, startled all of his fellow knights.

Arthur turned around in the saddle just in time to see how Galahad jumped off his horse. The young Sarmatian knelt down and reached for an object he had spotted lying between the leaves in the middle of the path they had been following.

Arthur immediately turned his horse around and dismounted to join Galahad. With shock shining through in the blue-grey eyes of his youngest knight, he handed his find to Arthur.

His breath caught in his throat as Arthur stared in horror at Lancelot's pendant in his hand. He could hear the gasps of shock all around as the other knights recognized the object. Spots of blood were visible on the leather string that had been cut in two.

"He wouldn't have given that up without a fight," Gawain stated softly. "If there's any fight left in him…"

"When we find the bastards who took our Lancey, I can assure you all that there will be no fight left in them!" Bors exploded. "A slow death will be too kind for them!"

Arthur clutched the pendant tightly in his hand. He was reeling with shock and worry and rage. "They are playing with us! With Lancelot!" The Roman turned towards his horse, ordering his knights to do the same. "Knights! Mount up! I intend to find Lancelot before this day is over!" He nodded towards Tristan to take the lead once more.


	4. Part Four

Suddenly Tristan stood completely still, his hand in mid air on its way to grab his mare's reins. "Arthur!"

Arthur spun around at Tristan's whispered exclamation, Excalibur in his hand even before he had completely turned around. The other knights were not far behind in unsheathing their weapons.

When Arthur stepped forwards, he saw Merlin stepping onto the path from between the dark trees. Right behind him were two blue painted archers, their bows ready but not aimed.

Arthur stepped forwards, in front of Tristan, and raised Excalibur to keep Merlin at a distance. "Where is Lancelot?" he demanded, his voice laced with anger. "Why did you take my knight? Why didn't you just kill us?"

Merlin raised his hands like in surrender. He looked with sympathy at the Roman leader in front of him. He recognized the pain in Arthur's eyes and voice. "I did not capture your knight. I came here to tell you where you can find him."

"How can you know where he is, if you didn't take him?" Arthur shouted enraged.

"Please, calm down." Merlin answered in a soothing tone, while taking a step closer. His throat was almost level with the tip of the big sword in Arthur's hands. Arthur was aware that Gawain and Dagonet appeared on either side of him, their swords ready.

Arthur studied the man in front of him. He had met Merlin before, but never so close up. His eyes seemed friendly, showing something close to pity.

"Speak up!" The Roman's voice sounded more steady, authoritative, commanding.

"Your knight was taken captive by one of my men. His son was killed in a battle near the village of Lytchett almost three weeks ago. He assembled a dozen men around him and went off to revenge the dead of his only son. He believes one of your knights killed him." Arthur could hear the genuine tone in Merlin's voice.

"You don't approve." It was more a statement than a question.

"No, this is not how we fight or what we fight for." Merlin looked around him. This land, these woods, that was what they were fighting for.

Arthur nodded thoughtfully. "Then why not just kill Lancelot?"

"He wants to make him suffer like his son did. He died a week after the battle. He wants to make all of you suffer while you watch how your friend dies."

Arthur gripped Lancelot's pendant even tighter with his left hand. A cold shiver ran through his body. "Where are they?"

"They are heading towards Lytchett."

Arthur studied Merlin once more, wondering if he could trust him. "The village where we fought three weeks ago."

"Yes. You will have to hurry. Your knight doesn't have long to live anymore."

Before Arthur could say or ask anything else, Merlin turned around and disappeared into the dense woods, the two archers following silently. Arthur stared after them until Dagonet's voice reached him.

"Can we trust him?" Dagonet sounded doubtful.

Arthur turned around to face his knights. "We don't really have a choice, do we? We have no idea where Lancelot is, except for what Merlin just told us."

"He didn't have to come to us," Gawain said but his voice betrayed his uncertainty at his own words.

"He could be sending us in the wrong direction to make sure they get away with Lancelot!" Galahad sounded angry.

Tristan shook his head. "I don't think so. They haven't tried to cover up their tracks so far, because they wanted us to follow. Why then send us in the wrong direction all of a sudden?" For a moment the scout looked up at the sky, and the path they had been riding. "And Lytchett is in a straight line from where we've come."

"Let's go then! Let's kill those bastards and get our Lancelot back!" Bors didn't wait for an answer and strode over to his black horse.

–– 8 ––

With the blindfold before his eyes Lancelot couldn't see where he was going and neither could he see and avoid the branches hanging down from trees. He had been swaying between consciousness and unconsciousness for hours. The pain in his back was relentless. He wanted the torture to stop, to succumb to the sweet embrace of nothingness, but white hot flashes of pain when another branch hit him, swept him right back into wakefulness.

His body felt on fire one moment with sweat pouring down his skin, while he was shaking with cold the next. He couldn't think anymore. All that existed for him at that moment was the knowledge that he had to stay on the horse. His fingers held the manes in such a tight hold that they had cramped up completely and he wasn't sure if he could let go even if he wanted to.

When his horse stopped it just took too much effort to keep himself up any longer. He fell sideways, falling to the ground. His fingers glided through the manes, burning his hands. His fall was broken somewhat when the rope around his feet was pulled tight. His legs were held upwards at an awkward angle. The startled horse tried to escape the burden around her neck and stepped forwards. Lancelot was pulled with her, his back scraping over the ground. He didn't remember if he screamed out in pain as soon blackness claimed him and he swam into oblivion gratefully.

–– 8 ––

Arthur and the Sarmatian knights rode as hard and fast as they could in the direction of Lytchett. Tristan rode in front, leading the way, always keeping an eye on the tracks on the ground.

It had been nearly two days since Lancelot had been captured, some of the longest days Arthur had ever experienced. Merlin's words had only raised his fear for his best friend's life. Not only did the Woads that were holding him captive want to kill the dark knight, but they also intended to make him suffer. Arthur realized that even if they found Lancelot before he was killed, that he would be in bad shape. His capturers would not have taken care of the arrow wound, and the Roman didn't need his imagination to picture the sight of infected wounds before his eyes as he had seen more than he could count in reality. He spurred his white stallion on to even more speed.

They had been riding for more than an hour when Tristan's mare suddenly skidded to a halt, rearing on her hind legs. The scout soothed her by stroking her neck, murmuring words in Sarmatian.

Arthur's stallion almost ran in to the grey horse but avoided her at the last possible moment. Immediately the Roman saw what had spooked his scout's horse. He cursed loudly.

Gawain and Galahad came to a halt next to their commander and gasped at the gruesome sight before them.

Hanging from a branch, with a rope around its neck, a rabbit was struggling to escape. Its abdomen was carved open, the knife still embedded in the wound. Its blood and life was slowly seeping out.

Dagonet was the first to dismount. He walked over to the frightened animal, pulling out his own knife. With a swift motion, he killed it fast. With another fast move, he cut through the rope. After removing the knife from the rabbit, he threw it between the trees. "_Inish_!" he growled angrily.

"A warning…" Gawain said quietly.

Arthur looked at the blond knight and nodded. "A warning of what is going to happen to Lancelot." He tried to suppress his feelings of fear for Lancelot's fate, focusing on the ride ahead. "We need to hurry! Who knows what they've already done to him!"

–– 8 ––

Consciousness returned to Lancelot when his hands were roughly pulled behind his back, his muscles straining against the movement, his back burning in agony. The blindfold was gone and his eyes widened in surprise when he realized what was being done to him. He ground his teeth together to keep from groaning in pain. He felt warm blood flowing freely down his back. His vision was blurred when he heard how one of his capturers addressed him. "It's almost time for your final hour, boy, and for me to revenge my son!"

* * *

**A/N:** Since some historians believe that Badon Hill is actually Badbury in Dorset, I used Lytchett as the name of the village where Arthur and his knights were involved in another battle, since Lytchett is also in Dorset and relatively close. I think… Geography was never my strong suit LOL 

**A/N 2:** A big thank you to all my lovely reviewers!


	5. Part Five

Finally some more daylight penetrated the dense wood as the knights reached the edge of the forest. Arthur was relieved. He knew that sunset was near and he had no idea how they were going to find Lancelot if the darkness unveiled itself.

Tristan turned around on his horse. "We're almost there." Only a short time later, the knights emerged from between the trees.

"Tristan, keep us close to the woods. I don't want our presence known just yet." Arthur looked around, but saw no sign of either Lancelot or his capturers. Still far ahead he could see the houses forming the outskirts of Lytchett.

Slowly and cautiously they continued their travel along the tree line of the woods. A few miles further, Tristan once again turned around on his horse. "Arthur…" Tristan pointed towards a group of trees.

Arthur had to strain his sight before he saw what his scout had already seen. A gathering of men and horses. Woads. Blue painted warriors. One dozen of them. The Roman couldn't tell whether Lancelot was amongst the group. He looked at Tristan, who shook his head uncertainly.

Arthur remained silent for a few moments before he turned to Tristan once more. "Take Galahad and disappear in the darkness between the trees. Knights! Be ready for anything!" He drew Excalibur from its sheath over his white horse's shoulder, and spurred the large stallion on to proceed in a slow gallop. Gawain, Bors and Dagonet followed easily, weapons ready, as they had drawn their swords and axe at the same time as their commander drew his big sword.

As soon as Arthur had approached close enough to be able to distinguish the Woads from each other, they parted into two groups, revealing what was in their midst.

Arthur's heart skipped a beat as he made out Lancelot. He took in how the Sarmatian knight was bound to a large oak tree, his arms pulled back in an awkward position, like he was hugging the tree, his hands bound together by a rope wound around the big stem. His eyes were closed, his head lolled to one side. His feet were touching the ground, but his entire body was hanging limp, his knees buckled. Arthur couldn't make out whether he was alive or dead.

"Sweet Goddess! Don't let us be too late..."

Arthur heard Gawain's soft exclamation as he too took in the sight before them, shock evident in his voice. He could hear both Bors and Dagonet cursing in their native tongue. For a brief moment, the Roman closed his eyes, sending up a quick prayer to his own God, to keep his knight, second in command, and closest friend safe.

As the group of four knights approached further, they watched how two men, Woads, appeared from behind the trees and bushes on either side of Lancelot. Both men carried bows, the arrows nocked and ready to be fired. Their target was Lancelot.

Arthur continued to approach the group of Woads, the others close behind him. When they had neared up to sixty feet, the Woads suddenly drew their weapons, more bows being raised and aimed, this time at Arthur. Arthur pulled his stallion to a stop, but remained on his mount.

One of the Woads stepped forwards, a gleeful smile on his face. "So glad you cared to join us for your knight's last hour on this earth." The bass voice of the Woad leader thundered across the space between himself and the Roman commander.

"What issues do you have with my knight?" Arthur's voice sounded just as thundering and enraged.

Arthur saw how Lancelot's eyes fluttered open upon hearing his voice, revealing dazed and feverish dark eyes radiating with pain. Lines of agony were etched on his face. "Lancelot!" he shouted. Slowly the Sarmatian's head lifted slightly.

"You and your knights killed my son! An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth! We grabbed the first man we could, and pretty boy here was in the back!" The Woad leader started to cackle like a mad man. Roars of laughter escaped from his lips, the men around him joining him. "But it turns out he was a pretty good catch, wasn't he? He's very dear to you, isn't he? Good, very good! Then you will know exactly how it feels to watch the one most dear to you die a slow and painful death…"

The Woad leader turned around, not giving Arthur a chance to reply. He walked to the tree to which Lancelot was bound.

Lancelot turned his head to face the man that he knew had just walked up to him. His vision was blurred, and no matter what he tried, he couldn't get his eyes to focus. His hearing was being hampered by the sound of his own blood rushing through his veins as his head and back ached mercilessly. He felt how a hand was placed under his chin and his head lifted. He blinked again but to no avail. He could hear a voice speaking but he couldn't make out the words.

The knights watched as the Woad leader grabbed Lancelot by his chin. The Sarmatian did nothing to protest the rough treatment. Arthur felt the fear for Lancelot's life blossoming within him. The next words of the Woad made him shudder with anger, with horror.

"He was a lot more fun to play with before he fell so silent. He liked to play too! Nasty words from the mouth of such a handsome face…" Another cackling sound rose from the throat of the Woad leader.

Arthur made a mental note to talk with his dark knight to finally learn when to speak and when to be silent. If he were to survive.

Two arrows flying through the air from the shelter of the trees interrupted the Roman's thoughts. With perfect aim both Woad archers threatening Lancelot were killed instantly and simultaneously.

Two other arrows immediately followed, killing the other two archers. The Woads scattered in surprise at the unexpected attack.

"Forwards!" Arthur yelled as he pushed his heels into his horse's flanks and went straight for the leader of the Woads, Excalibur outstretched in his hand.

Before Arthur reached the Woad leader, one of the other warriors aimed his spear at the legs of the Roman's horse. With a high squeal, the white stallion went down when the long weapon got caught between its front legs. Arthur jumped off easily. Turning around, Arthur threw up Excalibur, and caught it again easily. With one swift motion, he plunged his sword further downwards in the chest of one of the Woads.

Arthur noticed that Gawain and Bors were on foot as well already. Tristan and Galahad came charging into battle from the tree border, both knights firing off arrows in full gallop.

Stepping forwards, Arthur came face to face with the Woad leader. Bringing up Excalibur to block the Woad's sword, the Roman stepped backwards, before immediately stepping to his right and raising his sword to push it through the man's chest. Arthur realized that the Woad leader was a skillful opponent when the warrior managed to block Excalibur's descent with a motion as swift as Arthur's. He didn't waste any time and used his momentum to swing up the big sword, slashing his opponent across his right arm, his swords arm. The Woad let loose a scream in pain and surprise, but held on to his weapon tightly. Arthur immediately progressed to another attack, which was deflected once more.

After two more attacks, the Roman found the opening in the Woad's defense that he had been looking for. Arthur swiftly brought down his hand that was holding Excalibur, bringing his arm backwards. With a sudden change in direction, the Roman commander brought his arm forwards again, his sword moving upwards now. Excalibur found its target as it embedded itself in the Woad leader's abdomen, running him through completely. The Woad slowly sagged to his knees, his sword falling from his hand, blood seeping out of the corners of his mouth.

Arthur's gaze met the Woad's as he pulled back Excalibur. "If you harm my knights, be ready to bear the consequences," Arthur threw at the man coldly as he watched how grey eyes turned into lifeless orbs.

Soon all Woads were dead. When the Roman looked up he saw Tristan killing off the last of them.

Immediately, Arthur focused all his attention on Lancelot. Dropping Excalibur, he spun around. For a moment he was frozen in shock as he took in how Lancelot hung tied to the tree with his head down. His eyes were open, but seemed as lifeless as the eyes of the Woad he had just killed.

"LANCELOT!" Arthur's scream tore through the air, carrying his full terror, reaching his other knights, as he ran towards the dark Sarmatian knight.

* * *

**A/N: Thank you for all the marvelous reviews!**


	6. Part Six

Arthur reached the Sarmatian first. Lancelot showed no signs of being aware that anyone was near him. Almost afraid, Arthur hesistantly stretched out his hand to touch his knight's cheek. "Lancelot?"

The sound reached Lancelot's ears as he briefly turned his eyes upwards. The dull look in the usually vibrant eyes scared the Roman beyond anything else he had experienced. "Lancelot?" Arthur repeated.

Arthur watched as Lancelot's eyes rolled to the back of his head and his head and body went completely limp.

The Roman immediately stepped forwards, holding up Lancelot's body to keep it from hanging in the ropes. "Dagonet, cut the ropes!" he commanded. Both Dagonet and Galahad had pulled out their knives already and with a couple of swift cuts, Lancelot was freed. Arthur felt Lancelot's entire weight falling against his chest and caught him before he could collapse to the ground. Quickly and gently the Roman laid the knight down, kneeling down next to him.

Lancelot's face was ashen white with bloody scrapes, lined by angry red skin. Both of his lips were split and swollen. His arms showed the same cuts and scrapes as his face. His hands were covered with dried blood that had spilled from several long scrapes on the inside of his fingers. Despite his dark clothes, it was obvious that they were soaked with blood both in the front as in the back, as became evident when Tristan gently turned Lancelot around, with Arthur's help.

Even the scout felt his breath hitch in his throat as he saw the arrow wound at Lancelot's back when he pulled up the knight's tunic. The gruesome wound was still open even if it was sustained two days ago, and blood was steadily flowing out of it, mixed with white pus indicating that infection had set in. Tristan brought his hand to Lancelot's forehead and wasn't surprised to find it searing hot with fever.

"He's burning up. We have to clean the wound," Tristan didn't waste time with explanations. "Dag, Gawain, we need bandages, water and wine." No one questioned Tristan's commands and hurried off to do whatever it took to pull their brother-in-arms through this. Arthur remained knelt down next to his second in command.

"He's dying, Arthur," Tristan whispered, his voice trembling.

Arthur didn't look up, but just stared at Lancelot. "We need to get him back to the Wall."

"It's too far, he won't make it!" Tristan's voice was suddenly laced with anger. Arthur didn't object, neither to the tone as he knew it wasn't directed at him, nor at the words as he knew that Tristan spoke the truth.

"What about Lytchett?" the scout asked, nodding towards the village close by, without taking his eyes off the gravely wounded knight in front of him.

His commander shook his head. "We just killed a dozen of their warriors. I doubt they would greet us with open arms."

Dagonet knelt down next to Tristan and handed the bandages and wine sack to the scout. He swallowed heavily when he saw the pus running out of the arrow wound. "Is he going to live?" he asked softly. When neither of the men answered, Dagonet knew enough.

Tristan quickly proceeded to first clean the dried blood out of the wound before he poured the wine over Lancelot's back and in the arrow wound. Arthur had placed his hands on Lancelot's shoulders to hold him down if he were to wake up, but nothing more than a pain-filled groan came from the dark haired knight's lips.

Arthur dropped his head in despair. He felt a hand briefly clasping down on his shoulder in support and watched how Gawain dropped down on his knees next to him. The blond knight's face betrayed his sorrow, and when he spoke his voice was tinged with fear. "Tristan, what can we do to help?" he asked as he watched the scout pouring more wine over Lancelot's back.

"We'll need water to clean the rest of his wounds. And blankets to keep him warm."

Gawain nodded. "Are you going to cauterize the wound? He has lost a lot of blood already…"

"No," the scout answered. "The infection has settled deep. It will spread through his insides if we close the wound. Hopefully we can keep the blood loss to a minimum if he's lying down."

Gawain rose to his feet once again, and after one last look at Lancelot, went to gather the things Tristan needed to care for the knight.

Arthur wordlessly took the clothes and water when Gawain returned, and proceeded to clean Lancelot's many cuts and scrapes.

"Merlin…" Arthur spoke up all of a sudden, almost startling Gawain and Dagonet. Tristan just looked up briefly to glance at his commander, never halting his ministrations to Lancelot.

"What about Merlin?" Gawain asked confused.

"He is said to have great knowledge of the use of herbs…" Arthur answered, sounding insecure himself.

"He is also said to be a dark magician," Dagonet stated, sounding hesitant as well.

Arthur sighed deeply. "Right now I'd settle for dark magic if it would save Lancelot's life!" Despair was pouring out in his words. A silence lingered between the men while they contemplated their choices.

Arthur's face took on a determined look. "Dagonet take Bors, Gawain take Galahad. Split up and find Merlin! Go in the direction where we last saw him. Tristan and I will follow you with Lancelot as soon as we're done here."

Both Gawain and Dagonet nodded in agreement before getting up. "Tristan?" Gawain said softly. "Keep him alive…" he continued when his gaze met the scout's.

Soon the four knights rode off as fast and hard as they dared, in a hurry to find Merlin, scared never to see their friend alive again.

"Arthur, help me sit him up. I'm going to bandage the arrow wound. Hopefully it will stop the bleeding some."

Gently, Arthur pulled Lancelot up into his arms, not wanting to hurt him any further. He could feel Lancelot's heart beating weakly under his hands, which did nothing to soothe his fears.

"I'm ready," Tristan said after a few minutes. "You can lay him back down again."

Slowly the Roman laid Lancelot down on the ground. A low moan escaped from the Sarmatian's lips. Tristan had rolled out one of the blankets that Gawain had put next to him and placed it under Lancelot's body. He reached over the knight and pulled it around him to keep him warm.

"Tristan…" The scout instantly recognized the slight sliver of hope in Arthur's voice and immediately looked up to see what was happening.

Lancelot's eyelids fluttered open ever so slowly. His brown eyes had sunken deep within their sockets. Arthur watched as the dazed eyes turned to his. Lancelot's lips parted a little, but no sound came forwards. It took too much of Lancelot's efforts to stay awake longer and he faded into darkness once more.

"We have to get going!" Arthur knew he had to get the Sarmatian to help soon and even then it might be too late already. "Stay with him. I'll get the horses." The Roman turned around and strode with hasty steps towards the white stallion and grey mare. He swiftly mounted his horse and rode to where Lancelot was lying, the reins of Tristan's horse in his hand. "Can you lift him up to me?"

Tristan nodded and with little effort scooped Lancelot up in his arms, the blanket still tucked around him. Arthur reached down for his knight and easily lifted him in front of him into the saddle. Lancelot gave no reaction at all. Arthur folded his arm around the Sarmatian's chest and hugged him close to his body. He immediately became aware of the heat of Lancelot's feverish body against his own, despite the extra layer of a blanket separating them. He spurred his big horse on and galloped off fast, Tristan right behind him.

"Hang on, Lancelot. Just hang on!" Arthur whispered.

Tristan passed him and he led them in the direction they had come from. Sunset had come and passed, making their journey even harder, but the clear summer nights allowed them to ride on in the light of the moon.

They had been riding for less than an hour, when Arthur suddenly yelled out to Tristan. "Tristan! We have to stop!" Without waiting for his scout, the commander brought his stallion to a halt. His hand had been lying over Lancelot's heart, and he had felt it getting fainter and weaker until he could hardly feel it at all. He realized if he didn't stop right now that Lancelot would die in his arms.

Tristan turned his horse around immediately, hearing the urgency and alarm in Arthur's voice. He jumped off his horse before it had come to a halt, ready to take Lancelot from Arthur. He lowered the dark knight to the ground, while his commander dismounted as well.

"He is fading!" Arthur explained as he took Lancelot in his arms. Tristan looked on in shared despair. They could do no more than wait for one of the others to return with Merlin, and pray to their own gods that he would be in time.


	7. Part Seven

Two hours later, Tristan strained his ears when he became aware of the sounds of horse hooves on the soft ground underneath the trees. "Arthur… someone is approaching…" The scout stood up and drew his sword. Arthur stayed seated on the ground, Lancelot's head in his lap.

Tristan lifted his sword and stepped towards the path to find out if the riders were Woads or his fellow knights. Four horses approached fast and it was only when they were close by that Tristan could distinguish the men from the horses in the faint moonlight that fell through the leaves of the trees. Instantly he recognized Gawain's long hair. The scout stepped out of the shadows of the trees and onto the path almost startling Gawain's horse.

"Tristan!" Gawain halted his stallion immediately, as did Galahad who was riding right behind him.

Tristan watched as the other two horses were also brought to a stop by their riders. Tristan felt relieved when he saw that one of the other riders was Merlin. The other one he didn't recognize, although he was obviously a Woad as well.

"Where is Lancelot? Arthur?" Galahad looked around, his voice conveying his worries.

"Through here," Tristan answered simply, signaling to the foursome to follow him.

Gawain jumped off his horse, and took the stallion by its reins, quickly following the scout deeper into the woods. "Tristan… What happened?" he whispered, not certain if he wanted to hear the scout's answer.

"Lancelot's too weak to travel. We had to stop." Tristan answered. He looked across and met Gawain's gaze. "It doesn't look good, Gawain. I'm not sure if anything Merlin does will make a difference."

"Gods…" Gawain hardly had time to respond before they reached Arthur and Lancelot. One look at Lancelot told Gawain that Tristan's statement was completely true. "Arthur… How is he?" Quickly the blond Sarmatian knelt down next to the Roman.

"His heart is beating only weakly…" The fear in his voice was visible in Arthur's face as well. The Roman looked up as Merlin appeared in front of them.

Without saying a word, the Woad leader knelt down next to Lancelot and began to examine him. He unwrapped Tristan's bandages which were soaked with blood already and inspected the wound. When he spoke up, it was in his native tongue and directed at the Woad that had accompanied him. Without questioning, the man turned to their horses and brought over the saddle bag. Merlin pulled out a small flask and removed its cap, before he turned to address Arthur. "He is very weak. We need to bring down the fever and get his strength up so he can help fight the infection. These herbs should help with the fever. You need to carefully pour it into his mouth. Make sure he doesn't choke on it or spills it. I didn't bring more." Merlin stretched out a lean hand to give the flask to Arthur.

Arthur took the flask hesitantly.

Merlin sensed his uncertainty and spoke up once more. "Trust your instincts, Arthur. If you think I would poison him, then don't give it to him. If you believe I'm here to help, then let him drink it."

Without any further indication of hesitation, Arthur put the flask at Lancelot's mouth and trickled the liquid on his swollen lips. It only took a minute to administer the small amount to the Sarmatian.

Merlin redressed Lancelot's wound with fresh bandages. "We need to get him to our camp. I don't think he's strong enough to travel on horseback. If one of your knights comes with me to our camp, I'll send him back with a horse and wagon." Merlin stood without waiting for Arthur's answer, walking towards his horse and his companion.

The Roman commander briefly looked at Gawain, the question in his eyes obvious. Gawain nodded in agreement and rose to his feet. As soon as Gawain had mounted his white horse, Merlin rode off.

Arthur returned his attention to Lancelot when Gawain disappeared out of sight.

"How is he?" Galahad asked, speaking up for the first time since he and Gawain had returned with Merlin.

"Burning…" Arthur answered softly.

Arthur had not even noticed that Tristan had stood up as well until he knelt next to him and Lancelot once more. He dampened a cloth with water from his water sack, and used it to cool down Lancelot's face. Soon the cloth felt as hot as Lancelot's forehead and Tristan wetted it once more, repeating his ministrations.

Arthur watched Lancelot closely for any signs that he might be waking up, but none came forwards as he waited with Tristan and Galahad for Gawain to return. He could feel the Sarmatian shivering violently with fever against him.

The Roman didn't need the scout's ears to hear the noise indicating that Gawain was returning with the promised carriage as the wheels seemed to make a sound that reached throughout the entire forest. Gawain jumped down from the horse in front of the wagon. "The camp is not far. Merlin has ordered a tent to be erected so Lancelot will have a shelter. He said he would prepare more herbs against the fever but also against the pain."

Tristan nodded. "Without the fever and without the pain, Lancelot might be able to get a bit stronger. We need to hurry though!"

Arthur easily lifted Lancelot up in his arms, keeping the blanket covering him closely around his frame. A pain-filled groan escaped from the dark knight's lips. Gently, the Roman lowered his best friend onto the wagon, immediately jumping up himself to sit next to Lancelot during their travel to the Woad camp. "Galahad, can you lead my horse?"

Gawain had already mounted the horse pulling the carriage once more, and swiftly kicked the animal in his flanks, spurring him on to a fast step. With a worried look backwards, Gawain checked if the ride wasn't too hard on his fellow knight.

"Just get us there as soon as possible, Gawain!" Arthur said in answer to the unspoken question.

Gawain had been right and the camp was near. Immediately, a Woad came up to them and pointed towards a tent at the edge of the camp. Nodding gratefully, Gawain maneuvered the carriage and its precious cargo to where the man had pointed.

Arthur jumped off the carriage and lifted Lancelot up in his arms once again. Galahad held the flap before the opening of the tent to one side so Arthur could carry the Sarmatian inside. A small oil lamp was burning, hanging from the top of the tent. Gently the Roman laid Lancelot down on the makeshift bed. "Galahad? Can you get his bed roll? We need to keep him warm."

Merlin was the first to appear in the tent, with Gawain on his heels. In the flickering light of the lamp Arthur could easily make out the concerned look that had settled on the older man's face. Merlin gently administered another small amount of liquid to Lancelot from a flask he had brought with him. For a moment he sat back on his heels, before he turned to face Arthur. "I've given him something against the pain. Your knight did a good job in cleaning the wound. I can't do anything more. It's up to him now…"

"Thank you," Arthur said softly.

"I'll be back in the morning. I will make sure that you are provided with some food," Merlin said as he rose to his feet.

Galahad waited until Merlin had stepped out, before he entered with both Lancelot's and Arthur's blankets, handing them to Arthur. The Roman rolled them out and placed both of them over Lancelot's trembling body.

Arthur looked up to see the weary faces of both Gawain and Galahad. "Go to sleep, both of you," he ordered.

"I'm staying," Gawain answered in a tone of voice that said he wouldn't accept any objections.

Arthur didn't object. Instead he nodded gratefully, knowing that he wouldn't be able to find any sleep before he knew that Lancelot would live.

"Tristan said he wanted to go looking for Bors and Dagonet to let them know where we are. I'll go with him," Galahad said while he moved to the opening of the tent. "I wouldn't be able to sleep anyway," he added with a troubled look at the unconscious knight lying on the bed.

"Be careful!" Arthur gave his approval.

"Gods, if only we knew he would pull through," Gawain sighed.

"I know," the Roman answered quietly. He paused briefly. "I thought he was dead already when I saw him tied to that tree. He had his eyes open, but it was like looking into someone else's eyes. Nothing of the normal fire was shining from them. It seemed there was no life in them at all. I thought we were too late," he shuddered. "It still might have been too late."

"I know he's strong, and stubborn…" A small smile crossed Gawain's face. "And usually I'm certain that he's going to recover, but not this time…"

Arthur didn't answer. He didn't have to because Gawain knew that the same thought had been going round and round in his commander's mind. They sat together in silence for awhile. Hardly any noise could be heard from the camp. They listened to Lancelot's shallow breathing, occasionally they could hear how his teeth would clatter together as he shivered with fever. Arthur pulled up the blankets covering Lancelot even further, lines of worry etched in his forehead.

"It's so strange to see him like this, so unnatural," Gawain broke the silence. "He's always so vibrant. I envy the intensity with which he's living, that passion!" He turned his head to look at Arthur. "I know he makes your blood boil when he flies off the handle without thinking first, but that passion, that drive, it makes him live so much more intensely than any of us do. He lets his emotions guide him often, but to be honest, we all need him exactly for that reason. He always knows how to relief any tensions before they build too strong, defuse fights before they become too harsh, with his quick wit, his sarcasm. He might wield those twin blades of his like he never wants to do anything else again, but he also makes us aware that there is more to life than just the fighting in battles we do, that there is more to living than being a knight. He grounds us. He never allows us to become accustomed to the killing we do. He mourns all of our friends with that same intensity. He's a complicated man, but our lives would have gone entirely different without his presence. I don't even want to think about what it would mean to lose him now…"

"I can't imagine either. He's my best friend, my brother, he knows me better than anyone else. And you're right, he grounds me, grounds us. And yes," Arthur continued as he smiled briefly at Gawain, "he does know how to make my blood boil, but he always makes me look at things from another perspective. Being without him would be like missing one half of myself. He just can't die!" Arthur's voice rose as he spit those last words out in an angry tone.

Both men were quickly silenced as a loud groan came from the bed. As one, Gawain and Arthur knelt down next to Lancelot.

"Lancelot? Can you hear me?" Arthur waited for a response, but none came, not even his eyelids fluttered in acknowledgment. Arthur felt his heart sinking into his stomach. He placed his hand on the Sarmatian's forehead, the skin almost sizzling with heat against his. "Oh God, his fever hasn't gone down at all."

–– 8 ––

The next morning, Tristan silently entered the tent. Both Arthur and Gawain looked up in surprise at his silent entrance. "Any change?" the scout asked, trepidation in his voice.

Arthur shook his head. "None, he's burning up with fever," he sighed heavily. "Did you find Bors and Dag?"

"Yes, they are here, still asleep though. Galahad too." He turned to Gawain. "Go catch some sleep as well. I'll stay here."

"Thank you. Warn me if there is any change!" Gawain sounded beyond tired. He rose to his feet slowly and left the tent after one last look at Lancelot.

Tristan knelt down next to Lancelot, and placed the saddle bag he had brought with him at his feet. "I talked with Merlin. We can learn a great deal from him about herbs and fungi and plants. He gave me these," the scout said holding up two identical small flasks, "to give to Lancelot. And we need to change his bandages."

Arthur accepted the two flasks speechlessly and made sure that Lancelot drank all of it, while Tristan further unpacked his bag.

"We need to turn him on his stomach, gently," Tristan instructed.

Together they turned Lancelot around. Arthur immediately felt how his hands became wet with blood when he carefully placed his hands under the Sarmatian's shoulders. Blood had soaked through the bandages and into Lancelot's clothes once more. Arthur saw the fear he was feeling matched in Tristan's eyes when their gazes met briefly. Their fear only increased when Tristan unwrapped the blood red bandages and unveiled the arrow wound. Blood and pus were steadily trickling out, running down Lancelot's side, the skin around the wound red and hot to the touch.

"I'll have to clean it out again," Tristan stated when he had recovered his voice. Gently and focused he went to work, occasionally asking Arthur to hand him things, but otherwise silently.

Arthur watched as his scout cared for his best friend. He tried to keep despair from settling in his heart, but it was becoming harder and harder.

"Merlin gave me this paste of herbs and plants to place over the wound. It should help stop the bleeding and also help with the infection," Tristan explained as he placed a green-brownish mush over the arrow wound, before he bandaged Lancelot up once more. Together the two men rolled Lancelot back on his back.

"If you remove the blood soaked clothes, then I'll go find some dry ones." The scout hastily left the tent, returning only minutes later. When Arthur finished dressing Lancelot in the dry tunic, he noticed how the trembling of Lancelot's body had increased even further. He sat back after covering the Sarmatian up again with the heavy blankets.

"Are you alright?" Tristan asked, studying Arthur's face.

The Roman closed his eyes for a moment before opening them again. "No," he admitted, shaking his head. "If only he would give some indication of waking up, or his fever going down…"

The scout nodded in understanding. "Maybe you should get some sleep. You could sleep right here. I'll watch over him, and you'll probably wake up if anything happens before I could do so." When Arthur started to shake his head, he added, "Do it for Lancelot, Arthur. He is going to need you to pull through this. You can't fall apart simply because of lack of sleep."

Arthur sighed. "You're right. Thank you." He laid himself down, still facing Lancelot, tucking his hands under head. Tristan saw that the moment he closed his eyes, his commander was asleep.

–– 8 ––

Arthur felt like he had slept for a day even though it had only been three hours when Tristan woke him up. "What?" With panic in his voice, the Roman immediately rose and looked towards Lancelot. The Sarmatian was moving around on his bed, fidgeting.

"He's delirious from the fever. He's talking in his dreams, and he has said your name several times already," Tristan explained to Arthur. "I'm not sure, but maybe he'll calm down a little when you're there. He shouldn't be moving around. He can't afford to lose more blood."

Arthur immediately knelt down next to the bed, placing his hand on Lancelot's arm. "Lancelot? I'm here, my brother. Can you hear me?" With his other hand he gauged Lancelot's fever. Before Arthur could say anything, Tristan handed him a wet cloth to place on the Sarmatian's forehead. Arthur continued to talk to Lancelot, and although his knight didn't show any signs of waking up, he did stop moving around. Arthur sent up a silent prayer to his God.

Tristan sat watching the two close friends for awhile, before he interrupted Arthur's thoughts. "Galahad brought food for you," he said while pointing to a plate with bread and a cup filled with some kind of broth. "You should eat something."

Arthur realized that he was indeed hungry and greedily devoured the bread.

"Do you remember an archery competition between Lancelot and myself a couple of years back?" Tristan asked while keeping an eye on Lancelot.

Arthur looked up at his scout. "Yes, I do. Lancelot won… We were all so surprised that he agreed to a competition with you in the first place. He doesn't exactly like losing." Arthur added, remembering that day vividly.

Tristan chuckled. "But he didn't lose, not that day…"

"It took fourteen shots before a decision fell, didn't it? I think everyone in the fortress came to watch!"

The scout nodded. "We set it up. We agreed beforehand that he would win."

Arthur's eyes widened in surprise.

"The others used to put a lot of money on whatever opponent I'd have to beat. They were getting cocky, expecting me never to lose. Lancelot figured it was time to teach them a lesson." A smile graced Tristan's face at the memory. "Lancelot put a lot of money on himself, and we decided to split the winnings between us. We made quite a lot of money that day." He chuckled to himself again.

Arthur looked pensively. "You put up a good show, acting all demoralized," he said slowly. A grin touched his lips. "I should have known something wasn't right. Lancelot didn't walk around the fortress gloating at his win, did he? I guess he wasn't such a good actor…"

"I know," Tristand answered. "I scolded him for it." When he continued, he sounded more serious. "He's a very good archer. He would be one of the best if he'd put his heart behind it."

Arthur turned his attention back to the pale knight. "I don't know how many times he has told me that he's certain that he'll die in battle. I can't believe that he might die like this…"

"I wish I could say that I believe that he'll live… But his time it's up to your and our Gods, it seems." Tristan's voice trembled slightly.

–– 8 ––

Bors had taken over from Tristan early in the afternoon. The bald knight had not taken his eyes off of Lancelot since he sat down next to the bed, as though he would be able to will the pale man to wake up.

"We let them get off too easy," Bors spoke up all of a sudden, almost startling Arthur. "We should have strung them up and left them hanging from that tree that they tied our Lancelot to, like they did with that rabbit! Leave them there to rot and die! Instead it's Lancey who is dying a grueling death…" His voice went down so much that Arthur hardly could make out his next words. "He is dying, isn't he?"

Arthur remained silent for a short while before answering. "Merlin thinks so. Tristan thinks so… I am not going to give up hope until he has exhaled his last breath!" Even if his words sounded determined, Bors didn't miss the fear in his voice.

"I never thought he could die. If one of us was to survive this fifteen year ordeal, then it would have been our Lancey." Bors' voice trailed off as memories washed over him. "But I know he doesn't think lightly about death… He was the first to come to me after Vanora gave birth to a dead baby boy last year. A lot of others tried to comfort us by saying that we already had ten healthy children. Not Lancelot. He gave this kid his own place. Told us to both celebrate his birth and mourn his death. No jokes about being the father that time… Sweet Goddess, I'll miss him if he doesn't make it through this!"

–– 8 ––

Gawain had told Dagonet what to expect but the big knight had still felt a shock going through him when he saw how badly Lancelot looked. His skin was almost translucent and coated with sweat as the fever still raged through his body. Dark circles were visible around his eyes, his cheekbones seemed hollow with exhaustion.

Arthur was sitting next to the bed, a bowl with water and a cloth within his reach. Every once in a while he would wipe away the drops of sweat on Lancelot's face but they would return soon again.

"Has his fever gone down at all?" Dagonet asked.

Arthur shook his head regretfully. "Nothing Merlin has tried to get his fever down has worked so far. The infection had been simmering for too long already when we found him. The only thing that has worked is to stop the bleeding. But…" Arthur sighed, leaving his sentence up in the air.

"But it might be too late already… I know. I heard Tristan and Merlin talking." Dagonet sounded worried, but also doubtful. "But it's too early still to give up on him, Arthur. Merlin doesn't know him. He doesn't know how stubborn and tough Lancelot can be!"

Arthur smiled gratefully at Dagonet, who always had served as everyone's rock in hard times. And this certainly were some of the hardest time they had had to face together. "I'm not about to give up on him. I can't imagine what it would be like to go on without Lancelot…"

They sat together in companionable silence for awhile, both men lost in their own thoughts.

"I'll never forget your face when he walked into the tavern with that pig and he claimed it was for the sacrifice at midnight. And then he proceeded to tell you in detail how the animal would be slaughtered, and you seriously tried to convince him that it was too cruel a way to kill anyone." Amusement shone in Dagonet's quiet eyes as he looked at Arthur. "We all had such a hard time not to howl in laughter and give him away!"

Arthur nodded as he remembered that infamous evening. "It was only when Galahad started snickering out loud that I realized I was being had. If not, we might still be arguing…" he chuckled.

"Or you…" Dagonet fell silent immediately when he heard the sound from the bed like someone was having trouble breathing.

Immediately Arthur sat up on his knees next to bed. He placed a hand on Lancelot's shoulder. "Lancelot? Lancelot?"

Lancelot started to moan in pain in response. His eyes fluttered but did not open.

Tristan knelt down next to Arthur all of a sudden. The Roman had been so focused on his second in command that he had not noticed Tristan's entry. "Merlin gave me more pain medication," the scout said as he proceeded to let Lancelot drink the contents of another small flask. "He should settle down again soon."

Tristan stayed until Lancelot stopped moaning in pain. His breathing evened out as the pain lessened, but remained as shallow as before. Arthur and Dagonet stayed with him throughout the entire night, despair growing inevitably.

–– 8 ––

Early in the morning, Galahad brought plates of food for both Arthur and himself, as Dagonet left to get some sleep.

Arthur looked up at this youngest knight with concern. "You look as though you haven't slept all night."

"I could say the same for you," came the peeved reply.

"Galahad…" Arthur said pleadingly, understanding Galahad's distress.

Galahad sighed in frustration. "Sorry… You're right, I haven't slept all night. I keep thinking about Lancelot." He watched the pale knight on the bed, his fear and worries on his face to be read as an open book. "We've spent so many nights talking about home. He always would know when I was feeling homesick, not only when I just arrived here, but basically up to last week. He would come looking for me, and we would talk until sunrise, share stories. He opened up to me too occasionally. He longs for home maybe even more than I do. But he's torn because he doesn't even know what he'll find when he returns, whether his parents, his brother, his sister, any of them, are still alive. And now all I can think of is that I wish so much for him to live to find out…"

When Galahad's gaze met Arthur's, he saw his own feelings reflected there.


	8. Part Eight

**A/N: Thank you once more to all my wonderful reviewers!**

* * *

Two long days passed while Arthur and the other knights held watch over Lancelot. A true test of faith for Arthur or Dagonet's belief in Lancelot's strength and stubbornness. Arthur never left, sleeping and eating in the same tent, always there when Lancelot became restless without ever waking up. The arrow wound had stopped bleeding, but Lancelot's fever was still raging. The Roman was being swung between relief that the Sarmatian was still hanging on and a gripping fear that he wasn't showing any signs of waking up.

Gawain and Arthur were sitting together, talking softly. The camp around them was quiet as well. The warm summer night breeze around the tent the only other sound audible.

Lancelot's pained moan sounded loud in the night.

Arthur immediately moved to sit on the bed. "Lancelot?" The Roman watched breathlessly as the eyelids in the ghostly pale face began to flutter. "Gawain!" he alerted the blond knight urgently.

Slowly Lancelot opened his eyes. Even in the faint light of the oil lamp, the dark eyes made the paleness of Lancelot's face more pronounced.

"Lancelot?" Arthur watched as the Sarmatian struggled to keep his eyes open. The Roman saw how they were glazed with fever, lacking their normal fire and passion.

"Can you hear me?" Arthur placed his hand on the side of the pale face, brushing his thumb across Lancelot's cheek to stimulate the younger knight to focus his thoughts.

"Arthur…" Lancelot gasped softly, his voice raw with disuse. For a moment their gazes met. Lancelot reached out a trembling hand to touch the Roman's face. Arthur grabbed his hand before it fell back heavily on the bed. "You're real…" His eyes closed before the last vowel had left his mouth, sleep overtaking him once more.

Arthur let out a shuddering breath, having stopped breathing the moment Lancelot opened his eyes. He turned his head to Gawain, and both men smiled briefly, relief washing over them.

"Maybe there's hope after all," Gawain whispered. He rose to his feet quietly as not to disturb Lancelot. "I'll let the others know."

Arthur closed his eyes and bowed his head as Gawain left the tent, praying to his God once more. He couldn't keep a smile from his face when he heard the cheers of relief as Gawain told their fellow knights of Lancelot's brief moment of wakefulness.

–– 8 ––

Instead of easier, the waiting had only become harder. With every sound Lancelot made, everyone's hope flared up that he would wake up again.

Tristan entered the tent quietly, nodding to Galahad that he would take over the watch. Arthur had told them that it wasn't necessary to stay with Lancelot, that he had no intention to leave his closest friend, but the Sarmatian knights had no intention of giving up on their support to both their fellow knight as well as their commander.

Tristan took one look at the Roman's face and realized how the waiting was tearing Arthur up. "I didn't expect him to live for as long as he already has. For four days since we found him he has held on despite the raging fever. When he woke up, he recognized you. It has to count for something, Arthur. But you can't expect him to get better within a day all of a sudden." The scout didn't want to offer false hope to his commander, but he hoped to offer some reassurance.

Arthur sighed deeply. "I know. In my head, I know. My heart just wants to know now that he's going to pull through!"

Tristan nodded understandingly. "Just don't lose sight of what he has gained already."

"Thank you," Arthur almost whispered, grateful for Tristan's support.

–– 8 ––

Morning had arrived and Arthur could feel the first rays of light warming his back through the tent. He opened his eyes feeling refreshed from the longest sleep he had had in days. He stretched himself carefully, enjoying the relaxing feeling spreading through his body.

"Good morning," Tristan chuckled softly.

"Good morning to you too," Arthur grinned sheepishly as he pushed himself into a sitting position. His gaze turned to the bed. "No change?"

Before Tristan could answer, a movement on the bed caught his attention, bringing him to his feet instantly. Arthur was right behind him, sitting down on the bed while keeping a close eye on Lancelot.

Lancelot's eyes opened slowly. He didn't seem aware of the people next to his bed as he stared straight ahead.

"Lancelot?" Arthur gently touched his shoulder, not wanting to startle the Sarmatian.

Slowly Lancelot turned his head towards the sound, his eyes darkened with pain and fatigue. "Arthur…" he said softly.

"I'm here." Arthur answered, matching Lancelot's quiet voice.

"You…" Lancelot had to swallow, his throat dry and painful.

"Don't talk. You need to save your strength. Just nod or something…" Arthur said urgently. "Do you want some water?"

Lancelot's nod was hardly discernible. His eyelids were starting to feel heavy again.

Gently Arthur placed his hand underneath Lancelot's head and lifted it up only slightly. With his other hand he held a cup with water to his lips. Slowly he poured a tiny amount of water in Lancelot's mouth.

Lancelot swallowed gratefully, but only one sip left him completely exhausted. He didn't fight it when his eyes closed again, falling asleep almost immediately.

–– 8 ––

"His fever is going down," Arthur said in surprise. It was late in the afternoon when Dagonet and Arthur had been discussing whether or not to send two of the knights back to the fortress to let everyone know where they were. When Lancelot started tossing and turning in the bed once more, the Roman had knelt down next to the bed to check on Lancelot.

"Are you certain?" Dagonet asked hopeful.

"I think so…"

"I'll fetch Tristan!" Dagonet saw Arthur nodding in agreement just before he left the tent.

The big knight returned with the scout only minutes later. Dagonet had obviously explained already what Arthur had concluded as Tristan walked right up to the bed, placing his hand on Lancelot's forehead to gauge his fever.

He nodded slowly when he turned around to face both other men. "You're right. It's definitely lower. Maybe Merlin's medicine in finally working!"

–– 8 ––

Lancelot thought he could hear other sounds over the buzzing of his ears, but he couldn't be certain, the sounds seemed far away. Then the sounds seem to come nearer, it sounded like someone was moaning in pain. And he could make out other sounds, like words. He could hear his name, someone was calling out to him.

"Lancelot?" Arthur's worried voice finally penetrated the fog in Lancelot's brain. "Lancelot!" Arthur had immediately be alarmed when he heard how a long agonizing groan had escaped from the Sarmatian. He watched as Lancelot's face creased in pain and his eyes fluttered open slowly. "Lancelot?"

Brown eyes met green eyes. Exhaustion met relief.

"It wasn't a dream… You're here," Lancelot's voice was quiet, so quiet that Arthur had to strain his hearing to make out the words.

"Yes, I'm here…" Arthur's voice suddenly broke off, emotions overwhelming him. He had to pause for a moment before he could continue. "So are you… How do you feel?"

"Drained." His voice, his face, his eyes all underlined Lancelot's words.

"Go back to sleep then. Get stronger," Arthur couldn't keep the fear and worry for the man he loved like a brother out of his voice.

Lancelot's eyes roamed the tent they were in. The question was forming in his eyes even before he could ask it. "Where am I?"

Arthur hesitated for a moment. "It's not important. You need to get stronger first."

Lancelot watched him curiously. His back was throbbing steadily with a constant pain. He tried to shift a little to relieve some of the pain. Immediately he went rigid completely as his whole body spasmed with waves of agony as the pain in his back crescendoed. Lancelot's eyes went open wide, dulled with pain. He gasped for air as he struggled not to give in to the growing pain until it felt like he was aware of every tortured nerve ending in his body and he more than welcomed the darkness.

Arthur sat back on his heels, his heart heavy with fear and concern for Lancelot. He looked over to Galahad. The young knight was still focused on Lancelot, shock evident in his eyes at having witnessed how his brother-in-arms was overwhelmed by pain and had succumbed to unconsciousness.

–– 8 ––

Gawain entered the tent early in the morning to find both Arthur and Galahad awake and looking like neither of them had slept. "What happened?" he asked with foreboding.

Arthur sighed. "He woke up an hour or so after midnight." The Roman's face betrayed his sorrow. "It was bad. He was in a lot of pain."

Gawain immediately understood what Arthur was not saying. He placed his hand on Galahad's shoulder briefly. "Get some sleep. I'll stay here for awhile."

When Galahad had left, Gawain asked his commander, "How is his fever?"

"Much better, but still not gone entirely." Arthur straightened and went over to the bed to check once more. He placed his hand on Lancelot's forehead as he sat down on the bed. He watched in surprise as Lancelot's eyes opened at his touch.

"Arthur?"

The Roman watched as Lancelot slowly came awake, his eyes hollow and unfocused at first, but gradually becoming aware of his surroundings. "I'm here." He removed his hand from Lancelot's forehead, placing it gently on his arm. "Are you in pain?"

"It hurts like hell." Lancelot sounded weak, but the irritated undertone did not escape either Arthur or Gawain.

"Try not to move too much. Your injuries were very severe, still are." Arthur said in a soothing voice.

Lancelot looked around as he had done earlier. Briefly he met Gawain's gaze.

"We've been worried about you," Gawain said softly.

"Where am I?" Lancelot asked, his eyes darting from Gawain to Arthur and back.

Gawain waited until Arthur answered.

"You're in the forests. You were close to death when we found you. You wouldn't have made it back to the fortress…" Arthur's voice trailed off as he remembered. "You're in one of the Woad camps. Merlin's. They helped us take care of you, provided us with shelter. You would have died otherwise." Arthur watched Lancelot carefully as he processed the information.

"The Woads…?" Pain flooded Lancelot's face as the memories of his capture and two days of torture returned to him. His breathing became more rapid as he fought the panic building inside of him.

"Easy now… You're safe. You have to believe that!" Arthur soothingly rubbed his hand over Lancelot's arm.

"They did this to me!" The anger was obvious in the knight's fading voice.

"We know. We killed them, all of them. It wasn't Merlin. He helped us find you." The Roman watched his friend concerned, not wanting to distress him any further.

"How? Why?" Lancelot's strength was waning fast but he was determined to hear some answers.

Arthur saw how suddenly a different kind of agony passed over the Sarmatian's face, as he paled even further, the shadows around his eyes turning darker. "Lancelot? What's wrong?"

"They took my sister's charm." Lancelot's voice was no more than a whisper but the pain in it was razor sharp.

"No, no!" Arthur brought both of his hands up to his neck and pulled Lancelot's pendant out from under his shirt. Carefully he took off the necklace over his head. Gently he placed it in Lancelot's hand, closing his fingers around it.

Lancelot brought his hand up to his chest and pressed the charm tightly to his heart. He closed his eyes, overwhelmed by emotions, taking in deep breaths. He could hear Arthur worriedly calling out his name once more, but he had nothing more left to answer with. He did not resist when sleep claimed him.

Arthur and Gawain looked on in silence for a moment.

"Sweet Goddess, let him be alright," Gawain spoke softly.


	9. Part Nine

Lancelot heard voices talking softly. He kept his eyes closed as not to warn his capturers that he was awake. He listened for a while without hearing the words. Slowly he started to recognized the voices. Arthur's. Dagonet's. He felt like a hand gripped his heart and squeezed. He couldn't stop the panic rolling through him. He hadn't thought that the Woads would be able or even try to capture any of the others, but he clearly distinguished both Arthur's and Dagonet's voices. He felt like he couldn't breathe, like his lungs weren't taking in any air. His back was on fire.

"Lancelot! Lancelot!" Arthur gripped both of Lancelot's shoulders and shook him gently, trying not to hurt him any further, but with the realization that he had to wake up the Sarmatian.

Suddenly Lancelot's eyes snapped open and Arthur immediately noted the fear in them. "Lancelot… Calm down!" Arthur wasn't certain what was going on. He had been talking with Dagonet when all of a sudden Lancelot's breathing had all but stopped.

Arthur watched how Lancelot gulped in air, how he tried to get his breathing under control again. Slowly Lancelot's eyelids started to slide shut again. "Lancelot!" Arthur urged once more.

It took a lot of Lancelot's strength to open his eyes once more.

"What's wrong, Lancelot? We can't help if you don't tell us what is wrong," Arthur spoke softly, trying to reassure his friend.

Lancelot was breathing heavily, moans of pain escaping with every exhalation. His eyes darted from Arthur to Dagonet to the oil lamp and back to Arthur. "Woads…" The Sarmatian merely whispered the word. "You, Dag… they got you also…"

Surprise registered on Arthur's face at Lancelot's words. "No. Lancelot, no! We are not captives. You are free. We freed you. We found you. You are safe!"

Dark feverish eyes pierced into Arthur's eyes as to will him to say the truth.

"Do you trust me, Lancelot? Do you trust Dag?" Arthur waited briefly until he saw Lancelot nodding slightly. "Then trust me when I say that you're safe, that we are all safe…"

Lancelot heard Arthur's words and knew that he would never lie to him. He tried to calm his racing heart, his rapid breathing. He tried to inhale slowly, deeply. He needed air, fresh air. He was suffocating. He tried to push himself up. He felt Arthur's hands on his shoulders, his soft but urgent voice telling him not to move, but it was too late and he was attacked by a weaving agony enveloping his back, his entire body.

Arthur felt the body under his hands go limp and Lancelot's eyes rolled to the back of his head as the pain spiraled out of control.

Dagonet cursed out loud as Arthur buried his head in his own hands.

–– 8 ––

The night had been calm. Lancelot had slept seemingly peaceful. It was Arthur who had only slept fitfully.

The Roman described to Tristan what had occurred early on in the past night as both men ate their breakfast. The scout sighed. "He's been through a lot, Arthur. He will need time to deal with all, and I don't think that that time has come already. Each time he wakes up he is in a lot of pain, and the fever has not left completely either. I don't think there's much more that we can do than to reassure him that he's safe now. At least not until he gets stronger." He paused thoughtfully before he continued. "Maybe we should explain to him why he was taken captive?" Tristan looked at his commander questioningly.

Arthur nodded, obviously in thought as well.

"Arthur…"

The Roman was on his feet in seconds when he heard the weak voice of his second in command.

"Right here." Arthur knelt down next to the bed and took in Lancelot's appearance and was glad to see that the feverish glow in his eyes seemed to be absent for now. The Roman wondered how much more hollow Lancelot's face could become before it fell apart, the skin showing a ghostly pallor. "How do you feel?"

"I've felt better."

A slight smile graced Arthur's face, even if only briefly. "I can imagine. Do you want something to drink? Maybe some broth? You could use it…"

"Please." Lancelot's voice was so soft that Arthur couldn't make it out, but the nod was clear.

"Arthur," Tristan interrupted quietly. He handed Arthur one of the small flasks with herbal medicine for the pain.

Arthur mixed the herbs with the broth. He gently lifted Lancelot's head and gave him small sips to drink. Lancelot drank slowly at first, but more greedily soon. The Roman recognized the fatigue creeping over the Sarmatian's face, and carefully laid him back down. A heavy sigh escaped from Lancelot's lips, his eyelids fluttering but he managed to keep them open.

"Tell me why we are here," Lancelot's voice was weak, but his tone of voice unmistakably stubborn and determined.

"What do you remember from the days after you were struck down by the arrow?" Arthur asked hesitantly. "Do you know why you were taken captive?"

Lancelot slowly shook his head. "No… I heard them talking sometimes, how they were making sure you were following…There are just pieces of memories. I remember how I woke up lying across a horse. How they pulled out the arrow…" Lancelot shuddered. "Then I woke up again while tied to a tree. I remember how I was lifted on a horse and my feet tied together. They blindfolded me, I couldn't see where we were going. I fell off the horse several times. They kicked me when I did. They took the pendant," his voice hitched in his throat, as he clutched the charm in his hand even more tightly. "Someone punched me in my back, and after that everything is one big blur." His eyelids started to flutter again.

Arthur saw how Lancelot was trembling with exhaustion. "Go back to sleep. We can talk later."

"No!"

Arthur studied the Sarmatian in surprise. His answer had been so loaded with distress that the Roman knew he had no choice but to explain further what had transpired.

"Calm down, please, Lancelot." Arthur placed his hand soothingly on Lancelot's arm. Arthur briefly glanced at his scout, who nodded in agreement, knowing what his commander was asking. "Did you see the leader of the group of Woads who captured you?" he continued, uncertain of how to explain the reason of Lancelot's capture to him.

Lancelot nodded, too tired to answer with words. He swallowed heavily, his stomach rolling unsettling.

"Apparently, we killed his son in a battle a couple of weeks ago. He wanted revenge. He didn't go after you specifically, anyone of us would have done for his purpose… which was to inflict as much pain and torture to the one he captured, and to make sure that the rest of us were there when he finally killed you."

Arthur saw how Lancelot paled even further, how he swallowed heavily again. "Are you alright?" he asked alarmed. Immediately he recognized the heaving movement of Lancelot's body, and he quickly helped his knight turn his head to the side as he started throwing up.

Pain assaulted Lancelot from everywhere as his body spasmed while his stomach tried to rid itself of all its contents. He lost his fight against unconsciousness even before the spasms stopped racking his body.

Arthur sat back on his heels and closed his eyes. He didn't know how long he had sat like that when he felt Tristan's hand lightly on his shoulder.

"Go outside, get some fresh air. You need it. You've been in here for too long. Clear your head. I'll clean up in here," the scout suggested.

Arthur rose to his feet speechlessly and walked to the opening of the tent. He turned back to Tristan before he exited. "Thank you…" He paused but still did not leave. "Gawain told me that he had wished for Lancelot to be unconscious throughout most of the ordeal with his capturers… He probably was, and still he was conscious often enough to leave a permanent memory of the torture they inflicted…"

Tristan didn't answer. He had felt shivers going down his spine at Lancelot's recollections as well.

–– 8 ––

"How can you trust them?"

Arthur looked up sharply when he heard Lancelot's voice. He had been unaware of the Sarmatian waking up while he had been talking with Bors. He met Lancelot's gaze which held fatigue and confusion.

Slowly the commander made his way over to the bed and knelt down next to it. He could hear the voices of Woads talking in their native tongue outside of the tent wandering through the camp, and immediately understood what had triggered Lancelot's question.

"Lancelot, you would have died if we hadn't trusted Merlin. He came to us to tell us where we could find you. And then after we found you, still alive, thank God, but only barely, he was the only one who could help us to care for you and give us shelter. He didn't have to tell us where you were, and he didn't have to help us. But he did anyway. Because he didn't agree with the path that the leader of your capturers took." Arthur held a close eye on Lancelot to see how he would respond, not wanting any repeats of that morning's incident.

"What does he want in return?" Lancelot's voice was weak but loaded with distrust.

Arthur shook his head. "I know it's hard on you to be here, but all we wanted, all I wanted, was for you to live!"

The Sarmatian looked at Arthur warily. "You didn't answer the question." He felt numb, numb with exhaustion, numb with pain, numb with uneasiness. He was ready to believe whatever Arthur told him.

"I don't know. He hasn't said. It's not important." Arthur made sure that his voice sounded resolute, but he had to admit that he had asked the question to himself over and over again as well. When Lancelot remained silent, he changed the subject. "Do you want some more broth?"

Lancelot shook his head, remembering all too well how his stomach had responded that morning.

"Come on, Lancey, drink some!" Bors insisted. "The sooner you get better, the sooner we can leave here."

The corners of Arthur's lips curled up briefly at Bors' effective manner to convince Lancelot. "Do you think you can sit up for a bit, with our help?"

Lancelot nodded quietly. He let Bors and Arthur pull him upright ever so slowly, careful not to make any sudden movements. Grateful he drank the salty liquid that soothed his raw throat. He had to fight to keep his eyes open and not give into sleep as exhaustion washed over him.

Arthur felt how Lancelot leaned heavily against his chest, felt how his breathing had sped up in response to the exertion. He wasn't surprised when not much later the Sarmatian fell asleep against him without another word, even before he had finished the last of the broth.

–– 8 ––

A loud long lasting scream woke up everyone in the Woad camp. Blue warriors reached for their weapons. Sarmatian knights reached for their weapons as well.

Gawain was the first to realize where the shocking sound was coming from. "Lancelot!" He sprinted towards the tent, his fellow knights on his heels.

Arthur held his hands firmly on Lancelot's shoulders, forcefully keeping him down on the bed. Galahad was doing the same with his legs. "Lancelot! Can you hear me? Lancelot?" Arthur's tone was soothing but held a tinge of despair as well. "Wake up!"

Finally Lancelot's eyes shot open, locking with Arthur's. Raw emotions oozed out of the dark eyes. "Woads!" the Sarmatian gasped, sweat drops forming on his brow and falling down his face.

"No, Lancelot, you're safe!" Arthur wasn't sure whether or not he was connecting with his closest friend.

"Arthur!"

"Yes. You're safe, Lancelot, you're safe…" Relief flooded the Roman as Lancelot at last acknowledgded his presence. "You have to calm down, or you'll hurt yourself further."

"Woads?" Lancelot's voice was filled with fatigue and bewilderment all of a sudden.

"No, no Woads. Just me and the other knights," Arthur reassured Lancelot once more, aware that Gawain and Tristan had entered the tent, with Bors and Dagonet watching from the opening.

"So tired." Lancelot's eyes closed slowly as he gave in to sleep again.

It took Arthur and his fellow knights a lot longer to settle their nerves, fears and worries and get back to sleep as well.

* * *

**A/N: Remarks here and there have triggered some of the scenes in the remainder of this story, so thank you for all the wonderful reviews!**


	10. Part Ten

"We've been talking last night, Tristan, Bors, Dag and me," Gawain just jumped ahead and told Arthur what he wanted to talk about. "We all had a hard time getting back to sleep after that spine-tingling scream of Lancelot."

Arthur nodded knowingly, waiting for the blond knight to continue.

"The nightmares… Lancelot is feeling threatened by the Woads. Understandably, considering what he went through." Gawain's voice was heavy with concern for the curly haired man. "But it's hurting him…"

Arthur heard the question that Gawain left lingering in the air. "I know. I agree, but it's too soon to leave."

"Leave? When?" Lancelot's voice sounded weak, but heavy with hopefulness at the same time. He only awoke to hear his commander's last words.

Arthur took a long look at Lancelot's pale face. "No," he said, authority in his voice to cover up his incessant worrying. "No, we're not leaving yet. It's a long travel on horseback, almost three days of riding. You are nowhere near well enough to handle that. No, and that's final."

The Roman watched as the hope in Lancelot's eyes shattered, leaving only fatigue and pain. "Can you sit up at all, for longer than a few seconds?" he asked, caving in slightly. The Roman regretted the question the moment it left his mouth as he knew that Lancelot would take up the challenge.

Lancelot turned his gaze to Gawain. "Help me?" he begged the blond knight.

Gawain moved forwards hesitantly. Only when Arthur also stretched out his hands to help lift Lancelot to a sitting position, Gawain came to his final decision.

Arthur immediately moved to sit besides Lancelot, watching him with hawk's eyes. His hands went to the Sarmatian's arms to steady him at the same moment as Lancelot closed his eyes in an attempt to stop the spinning of the world surrounding him.

Lancelot groaned as he swayed while sitting up, his back throbbing painfully. Beads of sweat rolled down his forehead. A feeling of utter faintness overcame him. He collapsed against Arthur, knowing that the Roman had made his point. He merely felt relief when Arthur gently laid him back down on the bed and the dizziness slowly retreated.

"Are you alright?" Arthur asked anxiously.

All of Lancelot's strength had left him and he hardly managed to mutter his response loud enough for the two men to hear him before he fell back asleep. "Bloody Roman."

Gawain couldn't help but chuckle softly as Arthur rolled his eyes.

–– 8 ––

All amusement was gone when Lancelot screamed out in his dreams once more in the middle of the night.

Tristan reached Lancelot even before Arthur did, surprised by the strength the ill knight possessed as he tried to keep him from harming himself.

"Lancelot! Wake up!" Arthur shook the dark Sarmatian gently. "Lancelot!"

"No…" Lancelot came awake with a start, another scream on his tongue. He watched around him disoriented, until he met Arthur's gaze. Air rushed back in to his lungs as he inhaled with a shuddering breath. "Gods!" His taut body relaxed slightly, and he could feel how the hands on his shoulders and hips holding him down slowly released their pressure. He was still gasping for air when Arthur's voice pierced into his mind finally.

"Lancelot, can you hear me?" Arthur's face showed his concern as he watched how the Sarmatian knight seemed lost.

Lancelot nodded faintly. He closed his eyes to try to erase the pictures of his dreams from his mind. He allowed himself to fade away into unconsciousness.

Arthur watched on as Lancelot slipped back to sleep. He felt both concern and anger welling up in his heart because of what his best friend had to endure, while all he could do was sit back and watch. He sighed deeply.

"He's been through a lot, Arthur." Tristan seemed to understand Arthur's thoughts. "I'm not sure how much more he can handle. He won't heal while he's here surrounded by the people who put him through this in the first place. It doesn't matter that Merlin has only been helping. In his dreams he only sees the same people as camping immediately outside of this tent."

Arthur remained silent, well aware that his scout was right.

"If it were anyone else of us that had been captured and in his position now, you would have asked Lancelot for advise, wouldn't you?" Tristan asked, trying to get through to his commander.

The Roman nodded.

"What do you think he would have said?" Tristan insisted.

Without thinking or hesitation Arthur started to answer. "He would have…" His voice trailed off, realizing what he was about to say. "He would have pressed to take the risk and take any of you home, back to the Wall."

"Would you have listened to his advise?" Tristan asked quietly.

Arthur nodded once more. "Yes… it would have strengthened my own decision." He shook his head in wonderment.

–– 8 ––

The first rays of sun in the early morning became visible between the trees, lighting the tent and bringing Arthur out of his contemplations. "Tristan? Can you watch Lancelot alone for awhile? I'm going to talk with Merlin." He rose to his feet silently and left after the scout had nodded his agreement.

Arthur found Merlin without any problem. He approached the Woad leader slowly, uncertain of what to say. He hated the man for what he had done to his mother, but he would be eternally grateful for saving Lancelot's life.

"Arthur." The dark skinned man stood, watching the Roman intensely. "You are leaving."

For a moment, surprise flashed over Arthur's features, before he realized that Lancelot's screams must have been audible throughout the entire camp and further even. He didn't underestimate the leader's cunningness nor his intelligence.

"Yes." Arthur wanted to say 'thank you' but it was hard to get the words over his lips.

"Will your knight be well?" The genuine tone of voice surprised Arthur once more.

"I think so. I hope so." He looked up and his gaze bore into Merlin's. "Thank you for helping him. He would have died without your help, undoubtedly." He paused briefly. "I am in your debt. Tell me how I can repay it."

Merlin slowly shook his head. "No debt, Arthur. I merely set something right that one of my men had done wrong. Nothing has changed. Our fight is with Rome, not Artorius and his knights. There is nothing to repay."

Accepting the finality in the older man's voice, Arthur nodded tersely. "We will leave tomorrow in the morning." Without looking back, Arthur turned around and left.

"In the future you will repay me, Artorius, son of Britain. In the future… not right now," Merlin whispered as Arthur was out of earshot, watching the retreating figure.

–– 8 ––

After Arthur returned to his vigil at Lancelot's side, he had drawn back into himself. Galahad was starting to become greatly unsettled by it. The Roman had hardly spoken a word to him. Of course he had told his youngest knight that they would be leaving the following morning, as he had told the other knights, but no more words had been exchanged since then. Galahad could see how the decision to leave was troubling Arthur. He didn't know how to give words of comforts to his commander either, because he too was doubtful. Lancelot had been sleeping without waking up since the troubled nightmare and it was already deep into the afternoon. He had had no more nightmares, so that would be good, Galahad thought, but it seemed a bad omen that the dark knight had not woken up for so long.

"Lancelot!" Arthur's voice pierced through Galahad's thoughts and he became aware that Lancelot finally had awoken.

Lancelot seemed disoriented again at first. The brown eyes were searching the tent, lingering on Galahad, then turning back to Arthur.

"We will leave tomorrow," Arthur almost whispered, before the Sarmatian could speak up.

Lancelot's eyes widened in surprise and gratitude. He nodded slightly. "Thank you," came his simple answer.

"How do you feel?" Arthur asked with unhidden concern.

"Exhausted, empty, numb. My back is on fire," Lancelot answered honestly, knowing that only the truth would ensure his safe travel come morning. His voice sounded as exhausted as he said to be. "But other than that…" The grin almost made it to his face but it took too much of his energy.

"Will you try to eat something?" Arthur insisted.

Lancelot swallowed heavily.

"Lancelot, it is going to be a hard trip on you. Three days! You need every ounce of strength you can muster. I really think you should eat something."

Lancelot nodded his agreement, and allowed Arthur with Galahad's help to pull him into a sitting position once more. For a moment the world seemed to topple upside down and he quickly closed his eyes.

"Lancelot?" The concerned question from Arthur immediately followed.

"Give me a minute…" Lancelot nearly growled in return. He leaned heavily against Arthur, trying to keep any pressure of the arrow wound. He breathed in deeply, and exhaled slowly. He tried opening his eyes once more. The world seemed to have stopped moving and returned to its normal orientation.

"What did Merlin say?" the Sarmatian asked, because he wanted to know and to let Arthur know the wave of dizziness had passed.

Arthur stretched his hand out to accept the bread that Galahad was holding out. He tore off a small part and offered it to Lancelot. When the Sarmatian had brought the piece of bread to his mouth with a trembling hand, Arthur answered, "He asked how you were doing, asked if we were leaving tomorrow. I asked what he wanted in return for his help. He answered 'nothing', that he had merely set something right that one of his own men never should have done in the first place. That's all."

Lancelot's eyebrows rose slightly, the question mark on his face at Merlin's motifs obvious. "How can you trust him?" he repeated his question of a couple of days back.

"I don't. But he did help you, and for that I'll always be grateful!"

Arthur felt how Lancelot was sagging against him more and more. "Do you want to lie down?" He felt the nod against his chest more than he saw it. Gently he placed his knight back on the bed. "Go to sleep. Get stronger." The Roman watched how Lancelot slipped back into sleep easily before he stood up from the bed. He turned to Galahad. "I'll be outside for a while. I won't be long."

Arthur noticed how the gazes of his knights were immediately on him as he stepped out of the tent. "He's asleep," he said calmly in response to their questioning looks. Without explaining himself further, he walked away from them, further into the woods, away from the camp. When he reached a secluded spot far enough away from the Woad camp to not hear the sounds anymore, he went down on his knees and prayed to his god to give his knight the strength to make it safe through the three day ride.

–– 8 ––

Arthur had given instructions to get the horses ready as soon as the sun rose beyond the horizon. All of them were ready soon, eager to leave the Woad camp, eager to get Lancelot back to the Wall, anxious to see how the dark knight would handle the traveling.

"Knights, mount!" Arthur swiftly mounted his white stallion, while the others except Dagonet followed his example. Bors held the reins of Dagonet's horse as well as Lancelot's black stallion.

Arthur nodded towards Dagonet, who immediately turned and entered the tent in which Lancelot was waiting.

Lancelot watched as Dagonet entered. He felt both great relief in his heart as well as trepidation in his veins at the coming days. He could feel the tremors going through his legs and cursed his own weakness.

"Ready?" Dagonet asked gently as he knelt down next to the bed, worry lining his face.

Lancelot nodded slowly. "I guess so…"

Dagonet studied the ghostly pale face of his fellow knight. "Just say the word, and we're staying…"

The curly haired man shook his head with determination. "No."

"Here we go then…" Dagonet carefully positioned his arms underneath Lancelot's frame and as gently as possible lifted him up in his arms.

Lancelot could not suppress the groan that escaped from his lips. He squeezed his eyes shut when bolts of pain shot through his back.

Dagonet stood as still as he could, and waited until Lancelot seemed to have recovered from the first shock. "Are you alright?" he asked, already knowing the answer with one look at the dark Sarmatian's face.

"Perfect, just perfect." The sarcasm with which the words were delivered was severely reduced by the weakness in Lancelot's tone of voice.

Dagonet carried Lancelot out of the tent and walked towards Arthur, careful not to jostle the knight in his arms too much. He saw how the beads of sweat were forming on Lancelot's face. The fear of how his friend would withstand the journey was only growing. Gently he lifted Lancelot up on to Arthur's horse and into his commander's waiting arms.

Lancelot felt how strong arms grabbed him underneath his shoulders and he had to bite his bottom lip not to scream out in pain as his back once more protested all the sudden movements.

Arthur felt how Lancelot tensed up completely the moment he took his weight from Dagonet. Quickly, with Dagonet's help, he maneuvered Lancelot to sit in front of him on top of the horse. He felt how his knight slumped against him, his head resting on his shoulder. Arthur wrapped his right arm around Lancelot's waist, his hand on the Sarmatian's chest, holding him close, but not too tightly as not to hurt him any further. He felt how Lancelot's was breathing rapidly, how his heart was racing under his hand. The Roman waited until he could feel how Lancelot's body relaxed a little against him, his breathing evening out.

Arthur knew it was a futile question, but he had to ask anyway. "We can stay if you want. We don't have to leave."

It took Lancelot a brief moment before he was capable of answering. "No! No…" His voice had gone up at least an octave, agony obvious in the small words.

Arthur signaled to his knights to get moving, and gave his own horse a brief kick in his flanks. Lancelot tensed up completely again as the stallion started to move. Arthur could hear how Lancelot's breathe caught in his throat. Knowing that he could offer no reprieve of the pain, the commander stayed silent, but briefly pulled Lancelot closer to him, relaying his support.

Gawain fell into step with Arthur, riding next to him, glancing at Lancelot, who had his eyes closed. He communicated silently with his commander, sharing their worries when their gazes met.

–– 8 ––

"How are you feeling?" Arthur asked hesitantly when they had been riding for more than an hour.

"I never knew I could ache in so many places…" Lancelot sounded exhausted, but irritation and anger were evident as well.

"There are a lot of things I never knew about you," Arthur answered mysteriously. The Roman could just picture the surprised look forming on Lancelot's face.

"The other knights and I spent a lot of time watching over you, and we shared all kinds of memories, stories…" Arthur continued, trying to take Lancelot's mind of the pain a bit. "Tristan told me about the archery competition that you won. But not really won, did you?"

Lancelot groaned, not just in pain this time.

Arthur chuckled lightly. "Dagonet told me why Excalibur kept turning up in other places in my room then where I left it, driving me nearly insane!"

Lancelot groaned again. "What else did they 'share'?"

"I never knew you kept so many secrets from me," Arthur grinned.

"Some things are better left unknown," Lancelot said amused. "What else…?" he asked again, not certain whether he wanted to know.

"Galahad told me you went into a Woad camp on a bet and took their supply of blue paint? Gawain confirmed when I asked him about it… Were you mad?" Arthur shook his head incredulously as he remembered the story Galahad had shared with him, while stifling his laughter at the same time.

"Juvenile recklessness," Lancelot declared, his voice hitching in pain all of a sudden. "Gods!" His whole body went rigid as his breathing became shallow. His fingers clawed at the saddle he was desperately holding on to.

Arthur immediately reined in his horse. "Lancelot?" he asked urgently, not certain of what had happened. The other knights brought their mounts to a stop as well, all eyes tuned on the pale knight in front of their commander.

"Gods! Don't… make… me… laugh!" Lancelot's words came by fits and starts. "It hurts too much…" He could feel how his body was trembling with fatigue as he tried to ride out the all encompassing pain. Several minutes passed before Lancelot straightened up slightly, leaning back against Arthur once more. "I'm alright. Ride." His voice was lacking strength entirely.

Arthur slowly set off in step, allowing Lancelot to adjust to the swaying motion of the horse once more.

"You thought I was going to die…"

Arthur could hardly make out Lancelot's words, but wasn't surprised at the question. He knew that Lancelot would realize the implication as soon as he brought up the memories the knights had been sharing. "I never gave up hope. But yes, it was close…" The Roman shuddered at the thought of the past week.

Lancelot remained silent. Arthur felt how Lancelot leaned against him even more heavily not much later, realizing that the Sarmatian had fallen asleep, overcome by exhaustion. The strong and steady heartbeat under his hand soothed him as he spurred his horse on into a slow gallop.

–– 8 ––

Gawain came to ride alongside Arthur. "How is he?"

"I'm not sure. He's in a lot of pain and too exhausted to stay awake even despite the pain…" Arthur sighed. "I'm not sure we should be doing this. I don't think he's ready for it."

"Let's hope he sleeps better at least now that we have left the Woads behind," Gawain tried to offer some support to Arthur.

–– 8 ––

Evening was approaching, with the sunset strewing a glow of red light across the fields. Lancelot had been asleep the entire day, never showing any signs of stirring. Arthur's concerns were matched by all the other knights.

Tristan had found a suitable place to set up camp for the night. The knights dismounted swiftly and led their horses to a spot where they could graze to their heart's content. Dagonet handed Bors the reins of his horse. He walked towards Arthur who was waiting patiently.

"Did he wake at all during the day?" Dagonet asked as he took Lancelot out of Arthur's hands. The Sarmatian seemed even more pale than when they left that morning.

"No," Arthur shook his head. "We need to make a fire, to keep him warm. Thank God, the nights are dry and warm this summer, but he's been shivering for the past hours." He jumped off his horse as soon as he felt all of Lancelot's weight lifted out of his hands.

An hour later, a fire was roaring high and the knights were consuming their meals, while Lancelot stayed asleep. Arthur kept a close eye on him.

"Shouldn't we wake him for some food?" Gawain asked.

Arthur looked at Tristan for advise as the same question had been going through his mind as well.

"I think he needs sleep more than he needs food, right now. We covered a lot of distance today, but there are still two long days of riding ahead," Tristan offered.

"We'll let him sleep then," Arthur nodded.

–– 8 ––

Arthur gently shook Lancelot as the rays of the morning sun warmed his face. "Lancelot? Wake up, my friend."

Slowly the Sarmatian's eyelids opened. Arthur immediately noticed the pain and ache in the brown eyes. Lancelot let out a long pained moan as his back throbbed, the hard ground not helping.

"There are two more days to go, Lancelot. We can stay here for a day. Give you a chance to recover from yesterday's ride…" Arthur offered, watching his best friend in concern.

Lancelot considered it for a moment. "No, I'd rather go on. The pain would be as bad tomorrow as it will be today, I'm sure of that. Let's just get to the Wall as soon as possible!"

Arthur sighed, but nodded in agreement. "You should eat something before we leave, okay?"

Lancelot nodded. He groaned out loud as Arthur helped him sit up. He felt like going back to sleep, not like eating. The warm broth that Arthur poured into his mouth helped him warm up a little. He relaxed against his commander and before he was even aware of it, sleep overtook him once more.

–– 8 ––

Lancelot slept through most of the next two days. He only would wake up when one of the knights shook him awake, slipping back into oblivion soon after again. Arthur's heart was heavy with worry. Never before had he been so glad to see the Wall appear before him.


	11. Part Eleven

The knights had gathered at the round table in the main hall. It had been two days since they arrived back at the Wall and still Lancelot had not woken up. Tristan, Dagonet, Bors, Gawain and Galahad had kept the fire in the midst of the table burning all the time while they waited for news. Only one at a time one of them would leave their vigil, either to keep Arthur company while he sat at Lancelot's bedside or to get a few hours of sleep. There had been no more nightmares for Lancelot since they had left the Woad camp, but by now the Sarmatians were almost wishing he would wake up screaming once more, so they would know that the dark knight was still amongst the living, amongst them. Heavy dread was almost tangible in the air.

The sky outside had darkened as well. The same day that Arthur and his knights had returned to the fortress, clouds had gathered above the Wall. It had been raining ever since. The heavy warmth from the summer had mixed with the water-filled clouds, producing thunder and lightning, not only during the nights, but during the days as well. It reflected the mood within the main hall well.

"Do you hear that?" Galahad asked all of a sudden, breaking the silence.

He only received questioning looks from the others.

"That!" the youngest of the knights emphasized.

"What?" Gawain replied irritated, not in the mood to play games. "I don't hear anything!"

"Exactly…" Galahad grinned. "The thunder has stopped. And the sun has appeared," he said while pointing toward the rays of sun that were entering the main hall through the open door.

Tristan who was closest to the door and could look outside from his seat, stood up from his chair and walked towards the door. "Look!" he said quietly.

Quickly the other knights gathered around him. A rainbow was framing the sky.

"Rain and sunshine at once. A good omen, our Lancelot would say," Bors exclaimed.

–– 8 ––

Lancelot could hear the rustling of papers but couldn't identify the source of the sound. His eyelids felt like they had been glued together. Slowly he managed to open his eyes and take in his surroundings. Warm soft furs covering him. A window to his right side, the door opposite. His twin swords with the scabbard hanging on their familiar spot on the wall. Lancelot suddenly realized he was in his own room, in his own bed. His muscles protested fiercely when he tried to turn his head in the direction of the rustling sound. Memories flooded back as his back suddenly seared with pain. He gasped in surprise and pain.

Arthur immediately moved to the bed from the table he had been working at. His eyes caught the brown eyes he hadn't seen in the past days. Relief crossed the features of the Roman as he watched how Lancelot dealt with the sudden pain.

"Thank God! We thought you were never going to wake up again!" Arthur sat down on the bed and gave Lancelot a smile of relief.

"Just until my back stops aching!" Lancelot's features relaxed slightly as the pain ebbed away, leaving only a steady tolerable throbbing pain.

Arthur was glad to hear that Lancelot didn't sound as weak as the day they had left the Woads, although his voice was croaking from disuse. "How do you feel?" the Roman asked.

Lancelot considered that for a moment. "Well enough to bed one woman, maybe not well enough for more than one just yet."

Arthur chuckled. "You and your women. They are going to be the end of you!"

"That might not be such a bad way to go," Lancelot smirked.

"Seriously, how are you feeling?" Arthur turned earnest. "Are you in a lot of pain?"

"I've felt better, honestly. The pain is not too bad as long as I don't move," the Sarmatian answered, sensing his commander's need for the truth. "How long have I been asleep?"

"We arrived at the fortress about two days ago. And it took us nearly three days to get here, but you probably don't remember a whole lot about that…" Arthur watched Lancelot as he took in the news.

"Gods! That long…? And I still feel like I could sleep for a week! I feel so drained!" Lancelot's voice betrayed his surprise as well as his fatigue.

"You nearly died, Lancelot."

Lancelot looked at his best friend as he recognized the fear in Arthur's voice.

"Thank you, for finding me, and for keeping the pendant safe." Lancelot spoke softly, but he knew Arthur had heard every word.

Arthur reached out his arms and as gently as possible he pulled Lancelot up in an embrace. The Sarmatian lent into him, letting Arthur take all of his weight.

"We didn't know if you were still alive. They played with us for days…" Arthur whispered.

The Roman felt Lancelot nodding against his shoulder. Arthur thought the curly haired knight had fallen back asleep at the prolonged silence that followed.

"I thought I was going to die," Lancelot whispered as well, revealing just the tip of his innermost feelings.

Silently they sat together as they both relived the horror of the last week in their mind.

"You are safe now. Just get better," Arthur said in a soothing tone. Not much later Arthur realized that Lancelot had fallen asleep again. He hugged him closer, holding him for awhile, before he laid him back down on the bed.

Lancelot's eyes fluttered open again as Arthur stood up from the bed.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," the Roman commander apologized.

Lancelot didn't answer as he was overcome by a long yawn, enveloping him from head to toe.

Arthur chuckled softly. "I'll leave you to your beauty sleep. You look like you need it. Those dark circles around your eyes and the sunken cheekbones in a deadly white face will surely scare off the ladies…"

Lancelot smirked sleepily. "Just the opposite, dear Arthur. It will only bring them running, awakening their nursing instincts. You might have to hold them off by the door until I'm indeed well enough to see them all…"

Arthur walked towards the door laughing, eager to find his knights, and glad to see Lancelot getting back to his old self.

When he turned around at the door for a last look, the Sarmatian knight was fast asleep already, but this time Arthur's heart felt a whole lot lighter as the weight of uncertainty and fear had been lifted.

–– 8 ––

Lancelot slowly walked towards the stables. His back was still hurting him and walking was painful and tiresome but he hated being inside all the time. He needed the fresh air to breathe. At home, back in Sarmatia, they had always been outside. It was in his blood. His trip to the stables would be his third in as many days. The black stallion would be waiting for him already. He felt at peace there.

When the Sarmatian neared the stables, he noted in surprise how Jols led two horses out into the sunlight, both saddled and ready to ride out. The black stallion whinnied as he saw his rider approaching. Jols kept on tightly to his reins, while holding the reins of Arthur's white horse in the other. "Jols, what…?" Lancelot never finished his question as Arthur appeared behind the squire, a big smile on his face.

"I figured you might like a ride to keep you from dying of boredom," Arthur explained, taking over the reins from Jols. "Unless you don't feel up to it," he added hastily and with worry in his voice as the dark haired man made no move to come forwards.

"No, no!" Lancelot shook his head to rid himself of the surprise that lingered. "Let's go! I'm just… surprised." He stepped forwards and immediately the black horse pressed his head against his chest. Lancelot spoke to him softly in his native tongue as he fed him an apple that he had brought all the while stroking the big animal behind his ears where he liked it.

Arthur's voice broke through his thoughts, and he turned to face his friend.

"Do you need help to mount?" Arthur repeated, looking at Lancelot questioningly.

Lancelot nodded hesitantly. "Probably, yes."

Arthur watched as Jols assisted Lancelot to mount his horse. It didn't escape him when Lancelot winced in pain, but he didn't seem too uncomfortable. Quickly he mounted himself and cantered towards the gates, Lancelot following close behind.

"Thank you," Lancelot whispered as they rode away from the gates over the green fields.

"You seemed to be getting more edgy the last couple of days," Arthur grinned. "I thought I better take you out, before you decided to go out on your own without someone watching out for you."

Lancelot realized that Arthur's joking comment contained sincere concern for his well-being as well, and he felt his heart warming. A small smile briefly crossed his face.

"Are you alright?" Arthur asked.

"Aye, a bit stiff and achy, but alright," Lancelot answered.

They continued their ride in companionable silence. No words were necessary between the friends.

Arthur kept a close eye on his knight, but the Sarmatian sat relaxed on top of his big mount, the reins lying loosely in his hands, his body swaying in rhythm with the animal beneath him.

Arthur broke the silence after half an hour. "How are you feeling?"

Lancelot turned his head towards the older man, their eyes meeting for a moment. Then Lancelot looked across the beautiful land before him, and up to the sky and the sun, before he returned his attention to Arthur once again. Their eyes locked. "Alive," he answered, a genuine smile brightening his face.

–– The End ––

* * *

**A/N: A lot of people have commented on Merlin's remark about Arthur repaying his 'debt'. I merely meant to hint at what happens in the movie, when Guinevere leads Arthur into the woods and Merlin appears there, asking him to become the leader the Woads require to fight of the Saxons. That scene always irked me a bit, because I don't feel Arthur's reaction was "strong" enough. He just says to Guinevere "You betrayed me" and then he recited what happened to his mother at Merlin's hand, but he stays and talks with Merlin without any hostility. Like he had met and talked with the man before and he felt not only anger towards Merlin. So maybe he felt a bit of gratitude as well because he helped save Lancelot? LOL**

**Thanks to all my lovely reviewers! I hope everyone enjoyed the story!**


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